UC-NRLF 


H'(5l 


MEADOW  BROOK 

By  MRS.  MARY  J.  [HOLMES 


I.  &  M,  OTTENHEIMER. 

PUBLISHERS, 
W.  BALTIMORE  ST.          BALTIMORE.  MT 


MEADOW  BROOK 


BY 

MARY  J.  HOLMES 


I.  &  M.  OTTENHEIMER 

321  W.  Baltimore  St          Baltimore,  Md 


MEADv/W  BROOK. 


QEAPTE3  L 


FAR  away  among  the  New  England  hills  stands  a  large  old* 
fashioned  farm-house,  around  whose  hearth-stone  not  many 
years  agone,  a  band  of  merry,  noisy  children  played  —  myself 
the  merriest,  noisiest  of  them  all.  It  stood  upon  an  eminence 
overlooking  a  broad  strip  of  rolling  meadow-land,  at  the  ex 
tremity  of  which  was  the  old  gray  rock,  where  the  golden  rod 
and  sassafras  grew,  where  the  green  ivy  crept  over  the  crum 
bling  wall,  and  where,  under  the  shadow  of  the  thorn  apple- 
tree,  we  built  our  play-houses,  drinking  cur  tea  from  the 
acorn  saucers,  and  painting  our  dolls'  faces  with  the  red  juice 
of  the  poke  berries,  which  grew  there  in  great  abundance. 

Just  opposite  our  house,  and  across  the  green  meadow,  was 
a  shady  grove,  where,  in  tbe  spring-time,  the  singing  birds 
made  their  nests,  and  where,  when  the  breath  of  winter  was 
on  the  snow-clad  hills,  Lizzie,  Carrie,  and  I,  and  our  taller, 
stronger  brothers  dragged  our  sleds,  dashing  swiftly  down  the 
steep  hill,  and  away  over  the  ice-covered  valley  below.  Truly, 
(ours  was  a  joyous  childhood,  and  ours  a  happy  home;  for  never 
'elsewhere  fell  the  summer's  golden  sunlight  so  softly,  and 
never  was  music  sweeter  than  was  the  murmur  of  the  danc 
ing  water-brook  which  ran  past  our  door,  and  down  the  long 
green  lane,  losing  itself  at  last  in  the  dim  old  woods,  which 
stretched  away  to  the  westward,  seeming  to  my  childish  im 
agination  the  boundary  line  between  this  world  and  the  next. 

In  the  deep  shadow  of  those  woods  I  have  sat  alone  for 
many  an  hour,  watching  the  white,  feathery  clouds  as  they 
glimmered  through  the  dense  foliage  which  hung  above  my 
head,  and  musing,  I  scarcely  knew  of  what.  Strange  fancies 
filled  my  brain,  and  oftentimes,  as  I  sat  there  in  the  hazy 
light  of  an  autumnal  afternoon,  there  came  and  talked  with 
me  myriads  of  little  people,  unseen,  it  is  true,  but  still  real  tc 

:3 


10  MHADOW   SHOOK. 

me,  who  knew  and  called  them  all  by  name.  There,  on  a 
mossy  bank,  beneath  a  wide-spreading  grape-vine,  with  the 
running  brook  at  my  feet,  I  felt  the  first  longings  for  fame- 
though  I  did  not  thus  designate  it  then.  I  only  knew  that  $• 
wanted  a  name  which  should  live  when  I  was  gone — a  name 
of  which  rny  mother  should  be  proud.  It  had  been  to  me  r 
day  of  peculiar  trial.  At  school  everything  had  gone  wroii 
Accidentally  I  had  discovered  that  I  possessed  a  talent  i'c. 
rh}fming;  and  so,  because  I  preferred  filling  my  slate  with 
verses,  instead  of  ^proving  on  it.  th.at  four  times  twenty  were 
eighty,  and  that  eighty,  divided:  by;  twenty,  equaled  four,  my 
teacher  must  needs-  fmfL fault. with  me,  calling  me  "  lazy," 
and  compelling^iertovsii  .'between  Atwp  -hateful  boys,  with 
warty  hands,  who  for  the  remainder  of  "the  afternoon  amused 
themselves  by  sitting  inconveniently  near  to  me,  and  by  tell 
ing  me  how  big  my  eyes  and  feet  were.  I  hardly  think  I 
should  now  mind  that  mode  of  punishment,  provided  I  could 
choose  the  boys,  but  I  did  then;  and  in  the  worst  of  humors, 
I  started  for  home,  where  other  annoyances  awaited  me. 
Sally,  the  house-maid,  scolded  me  for  upsetting  a  pan  of  milk 
on  her  clean  pantry-shelf,  calling  me  "  the  carelessest  young 
one  she  ever  saw,"  and  predicting  that  "  I'd  one  day  come  to 
the  gallus  if  I  didn't  mend  my  ways." 

Juliet,  my  oldest  sister,  scolded  me  for  wearing,  without 
her  consent,  her  shell  side-comb,  which,  in  climbing  through 
a  hole  in  the  plastering  of  the  school-house,  I  accidentally 
^roke.  Grandmother  scolded  me  for  mounting  to  the  top  of 
her  high  chest  of  drawers  to  see  what  was  in  them;  and  to 
crown  all,  when,  toward  sunset,  I  came  in  from  a  romp  in  the 
barn,  with  my  yellow  hair  flying  all  over  my  face,  my  dress 
burst  open,  my  pantalet  split  from  the  top  downward,  and  my 
sun-bonnet  hanging  down  my  back,  my  mother  reproved  me 
severely,  telling  me  I  was  "  a  sight  to  behold."  This  was  my 
usual  style  of  dress,  and  I  didn't  think  any  one  need  inter 
fere;  so,  when  she  wondered  if  there  ever  was  another  such 
child,  and  bid  me  look  at  myself  in  the  glass,  asking  if  "  I 
didn't  think  I  was  a  beautiful  object,"  my  heart  came  up  in 
my  throat,  and  with  the  angry  response  that  "  I  couldn't  help 
my  looks — I  didn't  make  myself,"  I  started  through  the  door, 
and  running  down  the  long  lane  to  the  grape-vine,  my  favor 
ite  resort,  I  threw  myself  upon  the  ground,  and  burying  my 
face  in  the  tall  grass,  wept  bitterly,  wishing  I  had  never  been 
born,  or,  being  born,  that  the  ban  of  ugliness  were  not  upon 
me. 

Mother  doesn't  love  me,  I  thought— nobody  loves  me;  and 


MEADOW    BROOK.  11 

then  I  wished  that  I  conk1  die,  for  I  had  heard  that  the  first 
dead  of  a  family,  no  matter  how  unprepossessing  they  had 
been  in  life,  were  sure  to  be  the  best  beloved  in  the  memory 
of  the  living.  To  die,  then,  that  I  might  be  loved,  was  all  I 
asked  for,  as  I  lay  there  weeping  alone,  and  thinking  in  my 
childish  grief  that  never  before  was  a  girl,  nine  summers  old, 
so  wretched  as  myself.  And  then,  in  my  imagination,  I  went 
through  with  a  mental  rehearsal  of  my  own  obsequies,  fancy 
ing  that  I  was  dead,  but  still  possessing  the  faculty  of  know* 
ingall  that  passed  around  me. 

With  an  involuntary  shudder,  I  crossed  my  hands  upon  my 
bosom,  stretched  my  feet  upon  the  mossy  bank,  and  closed 
my  eyes  to  the  fading  sunlight,  which  I  was  never  to  see 
again.  I  knew  they  would  lay  me  in  the  parlor,  and  on  my 
forehead  I  felt  the  gentle  breeze  as  it  came  through  the  open 
window,  lifting  the  folds  of  the  muslin  curtain  which  shaded 
it.  Throughout  the  house  was  a  deep  hush,  and  in  my  moth 
er's  voice  there  was  a  heart-broken  tone,  which  I  had  never 
heard  before,  and  which  thrilled  me"  with  joy,  for  it  said  that 
I  was  loved  at  last.  Then  I  thought  how  lonely  they  would 
be  as  day  by  day  went  and  came,  and  I  came  no  more  among 
them.  "  They  will  miss  the  little  ugly  face,"  I  said,  and  on 
my  cheek  my  own  hot  tears  fell  as  I  thought  how  Lizzie 
would  mourn  for  me  in  the  dark  night-time,  weeping  that  I 
was  not  by  her  side,  but  sleeping  in  a  narrow  coffin,  which  I 
hoped  would  be  a  handsome  one  with  satin  hangings,  as  I  had 
seen  at  the  funeral  of  a  rich  neighbor's  fair  young  bride.  I 
did  not  want  them  to  strew  my  pillow  with  roses  as  they  did 
hers — for  I  knew  they  would  not  accord  with  my  thin,  plain 
face.  In  the  distance  I  heard  the  sound  of  the  tolling  bell, 
and  I  saw  the  subdued  expression  on  the  faces  of  my  school 
companions  as  they  listened  breathlessly,  counting  at  last  the 
nine  quick  strokes,  which  would  tell  to  a  stranger  that  'twas 
only  a  child  who  was  gone. 

Then  came  the  funeral,  the  roll  of  wheels,  the  tread  of 
many  feet,  the  hum  of  voices,  the  prayer,  the  hymn,  in  which 
I  longed  to  join,  but  dared  not  for  appearance'  sake,  and 
then,  one  by  one,  they  stole  up  for  a  last  farewell,  lifting  my 
baby  brother  and  bidding  him  look  upon  the  sister  he  would 
never  know  save  by  the  grassy  mound  where  they  would  tell 
him  she  was  buried.  I  knew  when  Lizzie  bent  over  me  by 
the  convulsive  sob  and  burning  kiss  which  she  pressed  upon 
my  lips,  and  divining  her  inmost  thoughts,  I  fancied  she  was 
wishing  that  no  harsh  word  had  ever  passed  between  us.  In 
my  heart  I  longed  to  tell  her  how  freely  I  forgave  her,  but 


12  MEADOW 

ere  I  had  J  tone  to  do  so,  sfte  stepped  aside,  while  an  older,  a 
wrinkled  hand  was  laid  upon  my  forehead,  and  my  aged 
grandmother  murmured,  "  Po^r  little  Rosa,  far  better  that  1 
should  die,  than  that  she,  so  young,  should  be  laid  in  the 
lonesome  grave." 

Instantly  the  dark  grave  loomed  up  before  me,  so  dark  and 
dreary  that  I  shrunk  from  being  put  there.  I  could  not  die; 
I  was  afraid  to  sleep  with  the  silent  dead.  I  would  far  rather 
live,  even  though  I  lived  unloved  forever.  And  then,  softly 
in  my  ear,  a  spirit  friend  whispered,  "  Be  great  and  good — 
get  to  yourself  a  name  of  which  they  shall  be  proud — make 
tKem  love  you  for  your  deeds,  rathei*  than  your  looks,  and 
when,  in  the  future,  strangers  shall  ask  concerning  you, 
'  Who  is  she?'  let  it  be  their  pride  to  answer  i  My  daughter/ 
or  '  My  sister. '  '  Older  and  wiser  heads  than  mine  would 
have  said  it  was  Ambition  which  thus  counseled  with  me,  but 
I  questioned  her  not  of  her  name.  I  only  knew  that  her 
words  were  sweet  and  soothing,  and  I  treasured  them  in  my 
heart,  pondering  upon  them  until  I  fell  asleep,  unconscious 
that  the  daylight  was  fast  declining,  and  that  the  heavy  dew 
was  falling  upon  my  uncovered  head. 

Meantime,  at  home  many  inquiries  were  being  made  con 
cerning  my  whereabouts,  and  when,  at  last,  night  came  on 
and  I  was  still  away,  my  oldest  brother  was  sent  in  quest  of 
me  down  the  long  lane  where  I  was  last  seen  by  Lizzie,  who 
had  attempted  to  follow  me,  but  had  desisted  through  fear  of 
being  called  a  tag.  I  was  just  dreaming  that  the  trumpet  of 
fame  was  sounding  forth  my  name,  when,  alas!  I  awoke  to 
find  it  was  only  brother  Charlie,  making  the  woods  resound 
with  "  Rosa  Lee!  Where  are  you?  Why  don't  you  answer?" 

Of  course  I  was  disappointed — who  wouldn't  be? — and  in  a 

,  fit  of  obstinacy  I  determined  not  to  reply,  but  to  make  him 

vhiak  I  was  lost — then  see  how  he'd  feel!    But  on  this  point 

/ 1  was  not  to  be  gratified,  for  failing  of  finding  me  in  the  lane, 

'  he  made  straight  for  the  grape-vine,  where  he  stumbled  over 

me  as  I  lay,  this  time  feigning  sleep,  to  see  what  he  would  do. 

Seizing  me  by  the  shoulder,  he  exclaimed,  "  You  are  a  pretty 

bird,  scaring  us  out  of  a  year's  growth.     Mother'll  scold  you 

well  for  this." 

But  he  was  mistaken,  for  mother's  manner  toward  me  was 
greatly  changed.  The  torn  pantalet  and  the  chewed  bonnet- 
strings  were  all  forgotten,  and  in  the  kindest  tone  she  asked, 
"If  I  were  not  cold,  and  why  I  went  to  sleep  on  the  grass." 
There  were  tears  in  my  eyes,  but  I  winked  hard  and  force4 
them  back,  until  Lizzie  brought  me  a  piece  of  custard  pie— 


MEADOW    BROOK.  18 

favorite — which-,  sho  said,  "  she  had  saved  for  me, 
because  she  knew  how  much  I  loved  it." 

This  was  too  much,  and  sitting  down  in  Carrie's  little  chair, 
I  cried  aloud,  saying  in  reply  to  the  oft-repeated  question  as 
to  what  ailed  me,  that  "  I  didn't  know,  only  I  was  so  glad." 

"  Hystericky  as  a  witch/'  was  Sally's  characteristic  com 
ment  on  my  strange  behavior;  at  the  same  time  she  suggested 
that  I  be  put  to  bed. 

To  this  I  made  no  objection,  and  pushing  aside  the  pie^ 
which,  to  Lizzie's  disappointment,  I  could  not  eat,  I  went  to 
my  room,  a  happier,  and,  I  believe,  a  better  girl — so  much  in 
fluence  has  a  kind  word  or  deed  upon  a  desponding,  sensitive 
child.  That  night  I  was  tired  and  restless,  turning  uneasily 
upon  my  pillow,  pushing  Lizzie's  arm  from  my  neck,  because 
it  kept  me  from  breathing,  and  lying  awake  until  I  heard  the 
lon'g  clock  in  grandma's  room  strike  the  hour  of  twelve. 
Then  I  slept,  but  dreamed  there  was  a  heavy  pain  in  my 
head,  which  made  me  moan  in  my  sleep,  and  that  mother, 
attracted  by  the  sound,  came  to  my  side,  feeling  my  pulse, 
and  saying,  "  What  ails  you,  Rosa?"  "  There  was  nothing 
ailed  me,  1  said;  but  in  the  morning  when  I  awoke,  the  pain 
was  still  there,  though  I  would  not  acknowledge  it,  for  scarce 
ly  anything  could  tempt  me  to  stay  away  from  school;  so  at 
the  usual  hour  I  started,  but  the  road  was  long  and  weari 
some,  and  twice  I  sat  down  to  rest,  leaning  my  forehead  upon 
the  handle  of  my  dinner-basket,  and  wondering  why  the  smell 
of  its  contents  made  me  so  sick.  Arrived  at  school,  every 
thing  seemed  strange,  and  when  Maria,  the  girl  who  shared 
my  desk,  produced  a  love-letter  from  Tom  Jenkins,  which 
she  had  found  on  my  side  of  the  desk,  and  in  which  he  made  a 
formal  offer  of  himself,  freckles  and  all,  I  did  not  even  smile. 
Taking  my  book,  I  attempted  to  study,  but  the  words  ran 
together,  the  objects  in  the  room  chased  each  other  in  circles, 
,the  little  Abecedarian,  shouting  the  alphabet  at  the  top  of  hig 
voice,  sounded  like  distant  thunder,  and  when  at  last  the 
teacher  called  for  our  class  in  "  Colburn,"  she  seemed  to  be  a 
great  way  off,  while  between  her  and  me  was  a  gathering 
darkness  which  soon  shut  out  every  object  from  my  view. 

For  a  few  moments  all  was  confusion,  and  when  at  last  my 
faculties  returned  I  was  tying  on  the  recitation  bench,  my 
head  resting  in  the  teacher's  lap,  while  my  hair  and  dreas 
were  so  wet  that  I  fancied  I'd  been  out  in  a  drenching  sliower. 
Everybody  was  so  kind  and  spoke  so  softly  to  me  that,  with  a 
vague  impression  that  something  had  happened,  I  began  to 
cry.  Just  tljen,  father,  who  had  been  sent  for,  appeared,  aiid 


14  MEADOW    BROOK. 

taking  me  in  his  arms,  started  for  home,  white  Lizzie  followed 
with  the  "basket  and  my  sun-bonnet,  which  looked  sorry  and 
drooping  like  its  owner.  At  the  door  father  asked  of  mother, 
who  met  us,  "  Where  shall  I  put  her?"  but  ere  she  could 
reply,  I  said,  "  On  grandmother's  bed." 

And  there,  among  the  soft  pillows  and  snowy  linen,  or> 
which  I  had  often  looked  with  almost  envious  eyes,  and  which 
now  seemed  so  much  to  rest  me,  I  was  laid.  Of  the  weary 
weeks  which  followed,  I  have  only  a  confused  recollection.  I 
know  that  the  room  was  darkened  as  far  as  possible,  and  that 
before  the  window  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  grandma's  black 
shawl  was  hung,  one  corner  being  occasionally  pinned  back 
when  more  light  was  needed.  After  awhile  it  seemed  to  me 
that  it  was  Lizzie,  instead  of  myself,  who  was  sick,  and  the 
physician  said  she  had  a  fever,  which  had  been  long  coming 
on,  but  was  undoubtedly  hastened  by  her  sleeping  on  the  wet 
grass  in  the  night.  And  so  we  all  trod  softly  about  the 
house,  speaking  in  whispers,  and  lifting  the  door-latches  care 
fully,  while  Lizzie,  with  my  cap  and  night-dress  on,  lay  all 
day  long  in  bed,  never  speaking,  never  moving,  except  when 
the  long  clock  in  the  corner  struck  off  the  hour;  then  she 
would  moan  as  if  in  pain,  and  once  when  somebody,  who 
looked  like  Lizzie,  but  was  still  I,  Rosa,  stole  on  tiptoe  to  her 
side,"  with  a  bouquet  of  flowers,  which  Maria  had  brought,  she 
put  her  arms  round  my  neck,  and  pointing  to  the  clock,  whis 
pered,  "  It  keeps  saying  '  She's  dead!  she's  dead!  she's  dead!' 
Won't  you  tell  it  to  be  still?" 

Then  we  knew  that  it  disturbed  her,  and  so  the  old  clock 
was  stopped — a  thing  which  grandma  said  "  had  not  been  in 
fifty  odd  years,"  except  the  time  when  grandpa  died — and 
then,  with  the  going  out  of  his  life,  the  clock  itself  ran  down. 
All  the  night  through  the  lamp  burned  upon  the  table  where 
stood  the  vials,  the  Dover  powders,  and  the  cups,  while  Liz 
zie,  with  her  great  blue  eyes  so  much  like  mine,  wide  open, 
lay  watching  the  flickering  shadows  on  the  wall,  counting  the 
flowers  on  the  paper  bordering,  wondering  if  there  ever  were 
blue  roses,  and  thinking  if  there  were  that  they  must  smell  as 
the  dinner  did  beneath  the  chestnut-tree. 

At  last,  when  the  family  were  wearied  out  with  watching,, 
6he  neighbors  were  called  in,  and  among  them  our  school 
teacher,  who  seemed  to  tread  on  air,  so  light  and  noiseless 
were  her  footsteps;  and  Lizzie,  when  she  saw  how  kind  she 
was,  wondered  she  had  not  loved  her  better.  Then  came 
other  watchers  equally  kind  with  Miss  Phillips,  but  possessing 
far  less  tact  for  nursing;  and  even  now  I  have  $  vivid  remem- 


MEADOW    BROOK.  15 

brance  of  their  annoying  attempts  "to  fix  me  so  Pa  be  more 
comfortable. "  Was  I  lying  in  a  position  satisfactory  to  my 
self,  I  must  be  lifted  up,  my  pillows  shaken,  turned  over,  and 
my  head  placed  so  high  that  my  chin  almost  touched  my  chest. 
Did  I  fall  into  a  little  doze,  I  must  rouse  up  to  tell  whether  I 
were  asleep  or  not,  and  did  I  get  into  a  sound  slumber,  I  mustT 
surely  wake  enough  to  say  whether  I  wanted  anything. 

Again,  I  fancied  that  another  besides  Lizzie  was  sick,  for  in 
mother's  room,  contiguous  to  mine,  there  was  a  low  hum  of 
voices,  a  going  in  and  out,  a  careful  shutting  of  the  door,  and 
gradually  I  got  the  impression  that  Jamie,  my  beautiful  baby 
brother,  was  connected  with  all  this,  for  I  heard  them  talk  01 
scarlet  fever,  and  it's  going  hard  with  him.  But  I  had  no 
desire  or  power  to  ask  the  way  or  wherefore;  and  so  time  wore 
on,  until  there  came  a  day  when  it  seemed  that  the  reverie 
beneath  the  grape-vine  was  coming  true.  There  was  the  same 
roll  of  wheels,  the  tread  of  many  feet,  and  through  the  closed 
doors  I  heard  a  mournful  strain,  sung  by  trembling  voices, 
while  from  afar  I  caught  the  notes  of  a  tolling  bell.  I  was 
much  alone  that  day,  and  once,  for  more  than  an  hour,  there 
was  no  one  with  me  excepting  grandma,  who  frequently  re 
moved  her  spectacles  to  wipe  the  moisture  which  gathered 
upon  them. 

From  that  day  I  grew  worse,  and  they  sent  to  Spencer  for 
Doctor  Lamb,  who,  together  with  Doctor  Griffin,  held  a  coun 
cil  over  me,  and  said  that  I  must  die.  I  saw  mother  when 
they  told  her.  She  was  standing  by  the  window,  from  which 
the  black  shawl  had  been  removed,  for  nothing  disturbed  the 
little  girl  now,  and  the  window  was  wide  open,  so  that  the 
summer  air  might  cool  the  burning  head,  from  which  the 
matted  yellow  hair  had  all  been  shorn.  She  turned  pale  as 
death,  and  with  a  cry  of  anguish  pressed  her  hand  upon  hei 
side;  but  she  did  not  weep.  I  wondered  at  it  then,  and 
thought  she  cared  less  than  Lizzie,  who  sat  at  the  foot  of  the, 
bed,  sobbing  so  loudly  that  the  fever  burned  more  fiercely  in 
my  veins,  and  the  physician  said  it  must  not  be;  she  must 
leave  the  room,  or  keep  quiet. 

It  was  Monday,  and  a  few  hours  afterward,  as  Sally  was 
passing  the  door,  grandma  handed  her  my  dirty,  crumpled 
sun-bonnet,  bidding  her  wash  it  and  put  it  away.  Sally's 
voice  trembled  as  she  replied,  "  No,  no;  leave  it  as  it  is;  for 
when  she's  gone,  nothing  will  look  so  much  like  her  as  that 
jammed  bonnet  with  its  che wed-up  strings." 

A  gush  of  tears  was  grandma's  only  answer;  and  after  I 
got  well,  I  found  the  bonnet  carefully  rolled  up  in  a  sheet  of 


16  MEADOW  .  BROOfc. 

clean  white  paper  and  laid  away  in  SaHy's  drawer.  There 
were  days  and  nights  of  entire  unconsciousness,  and  then  with 
the  vague,  feeling  of  one  awakening  from  a  long,  disturbed 
Bleep,  I  awoke  again  to  life  and  reason.  The  windows  of  my 
room  were  closed;  but  without,  I  heard  the  patter  of  the  Sep 
tember  rain,  and  the  sound  of  the  autumnal  wind  us  it  swept 
past  the  house.  Gathered  at  my  side  were  my  father,  mother, 
brothers,  sisters,  grandmother;  and  all,  as  my  eyes  rested  upon 
their  faces,  I  thought,  were  paler  and  more  careworn  than 
iwhen  I  last  looked  upon  them.  Something,  too,  in  their 
dress  disturbed  me;  but,  before  I  could  speak,  a  voice  which 
I  knew  to  be  Doctor  Griffin's,  said,  "  She  is  better;  she  will 
live.5' 

From  my  mother's  lips  there  broke  another  cry — not  like 
that  which  I  had  heard  when  they  told  her  I  must  die — but  a 
cry  of  joy,  and  then  she  fell  fainting  in  m^  father's  arms.  I 
never  doubted  her  love  for  me  again;  but  in  bitterness  of 
spirit  I  have  many  a  time  wept  that  I  ever  distrusted  her,  my 
blessed  mother. 

The  fourth  day  after  the  crisis  I  was  alone  with  Lizzie, 
whom,  for  a  long  time,  I  importuned  to  give  me  a  mirror  that 
I  could  see  myself  once  more.  Yielding  at  length  to  my  en 
treaties,  she  handed  me  a  small  looking-glass — a  wedding-gift 
to  my  grandmother — and  with  the  consoling  remark  that  "  I 
wouldn't  always  look  so,"  awaited  the  result.  I  am  older 
than  I  was  then,  but  even  now  I  can  not  repress  a  smile  as  I 
bring  before  my  mind  the  shorn  head,  the  wasted  face  with 
high  cheek-bones,  and  the  big  blue  eyes,  in  which  there  was 
a  look  of  "  crazy  Sal,"  which  met  my  view.  With  the  angry 
exclamation,  "  They'll  hate  me  worse  than  ever,  I'm  so 
ugly,"  I  dashed  the  mirror  upon  the  floor,  breaking  it  in  a 
thousand  pieces.  Lizzie  knew  what  I  meant,  and  twining  her 
arms  about  my  neck,  she  said,  "  Don't  talk  so,  Rosa;  we  love 
'.you  dearly,  and  it  almost  killed  us  when  we  thought  you 
couldn't  live.  You  know  big  men  never  cry,  and  pa  the  least 
of  all.  Why,  he  didn't  shed  a  tear  when  lit — : 

Here  she  stopped  suddenly,  as  if  on  a  forbidden  subject;  but 
soon  resuming  the  conversation,  she  continued:  "  But  the  day 
Doctor  Lamb  was  here  and  told  us  you  would  die,  he  was  out 
under  the  cherry-tree  by  our  play-house,  and  when  Carrie 
asked  him  if  you'd  never  play  there  any  more,  he  didn't  an 
swer,  but  turned  his  face  toward  the  barn,  and  cried  so  hard 
and  so  loud,  that  grandma  came  out  and  pitied  him,  smooth 
ing  his  hair  just  like  he  was  a  little  boy.  Brother  Charlie, 
too.  lay  right  down  on  the  grass*  and  said  he'd  give  everything 


MEADOW    BROOK.  17' 

he'd  got  if  he'd  never  called  you  '  bung- eyed/  nor  made  fun 
of  you,  for  he  loved  you  best  of  all.  Then  there  was  poor 
Jamie  kept  calling  for  '  Yosa.'  ' 

Here  Lizzie  broke  down  entirely,  saying,  "  I  can't  tell  you 
any  more;  don't  ask  me." 

Suddenly  it  occurred  to  me  that  I  had  neither  seen  nor 
heard  little  Jamie,  the  youngest  of  us  all,  the  pet  and  darling 
of  our  household.  Rapidly  my  thoughts  traversed  the  past, 
and  in  a  moment  I  saw  it  all.  "Jamie  was  dead!"  I  did, 
not  need  that  Lizzie  should  tell  me  so.  I  knew  it  was  true;' 
and  when  the  first  great  shock  was  over,  I  questioned  her  of 
his  death,  how  and  when  it  occurred.  It  geems  that  I  was  at 
first  taken  with  scarlet  fever,  which  soon  assumed  another 
form,  but  not  until  it  had  communicated  itself  to  Jamie,  who, 
after  a  few  days'  suffering,  had  died.  I  had  ever  been  his 
favorite,  and  to  the  last  he  had  called  for  me  to  come;  my 
grandmother,  with  the  superstition  natural  to  her  age,  con 
struing  it  into  an  omen  that  I  was  soon  to  follow  him. 

Desolate  and  dreary  seemed  the  house;  and  when  I  was  able 
to  go  from  room  to  room,  oh!  how  my  heart  ached  as  I  missed 
the  prattle  of  our  baby  boy.  Away  to  the  garret,  where  no  one 
could  see  it,  they  had  carried  his  empty  cradle;  but  I  sought 
it  out ;  and  as  I  thought  of  the  soft,  brown  curls  I  had  so  often 
seen  resting  there,  and  would  never  see  again,  I  sat  down  by 
its  side  and  wept  most  bitterly.  The  withered,  yellow  leaves 
of  autumn  were  falling  upon  his  grave  ere  I  was  able  to  visit 
it,  and  at  its  head  stood  a  simple  stone,  on  which  was  in 
scribed,  "  Our  Jamie."  As  I  leaned  against  the  cold  marble, 
and  in  fancy  saw  by  its  side — what  had  well-nigh  been — an 
other  mound,  and  another  stone,  bearing  upon  it  the  name  of 
"  Rosa,"  I  involuntarily  shuddered;  while  from  my  heart 
there  went  up  a  silent  thanksgiving  that  God,  in  His  wise 
providence,  had  ordered  it  otherwise. 

From  that  sickness  I  date  a  more  healthful  state  of  mind 
and  feeling,  and  though  1  still  shrunk  from  any  allusion  to 
my  personal  appearance,  I  never  again  doubted  the  love  of 
those  who  had  manifested  so  much  solicitude  for  me  when  ill,/ 
and  who  watched  over  me  so  tenderly  during  the  period  of  m> 
convalescence,  which  was  long  and.  wearisome,  for  the  snows 
of  an  early  winter  lay  upon  the  frozen  ground,  ere  I  was  well 
enough  to  take  my  accustomed  place  in  the  old  brown  school- 
house,  at  the  foot  of  the  Umc?  hill 


18  MEADOW    BKOOK. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THANKSGIVING. 

THANKSGIVING!  How  many  reminiscences  of  the  olden 
time  does  that  word  call  up,  when  sons  and  daughters,  they 
who  had  wandered  far  and  wide,  whose  locks,  once  brown  and 
shining  with  the  sunlight  of  youth,  now  give  tokens  that  the 
autumnal  frosts  of  life  are  falling  slowly  upon  them,  return 
once  more  to  the  old  hearth-stone,  and,  for  a  brief  space, 
grow  young  again  amid  the  festive  scenes  of  Thanksgiving 
Day.  To  you,  who,  like  me,  drew  your  first  breath  among 
the  New  England  hills,  and  who  have  strayed  away  from  your 
early  home,  m  the  busy  world  in  which  you  are  now  mingling, 
comes  there  not  occasionally  pleasant  memories  of  the  oldeu 
time,  when  with  eager  haste  you  hied  you  back  to  the  roof* 
tree  which  sheltered  your  infancy?  And  though,  perchance, 
the  snows  of  many  a  winter  may  have  drifted  across  the  grave? 
of  the  gray-haired  man  you  called  your  father,  and  the  mild- 
eyed  woman  who  bore  the  blessed  name  of  mother,  can  you 
not  recall  them  to  mind,  as  when,  with  tears  ot  joy  and  words 
of  love,  they  welcomed  their  children  home,  thanking  God 
that  as  yet  not  one  of  their  household  treasures  was  missing? 
And  if,  after  the  lapse  of  years,  there  came  a  time  when  the- 
youngest  of  you  all  was  gone,  when  the  childish  prattle  you 
loved  so  well  to  hear  was  hushed,  when  through  the  house  was 
no  more  heard  the  patter  of  little,  busy  feet,  when  there  was 
naught  left  of  the  lost  one  save  a  curl  of  golden  hair,  or  a  tiny 
shoe,  soiled  and  bent,  but  looking  still  so  much  like  him  who 
wore  it  once,  that  you  preserve  it  as  your  choicest  treasure; 
if,  I  say,  there  came  to  you  a  time  like  this,  do  you  not  remem 
ber  how,  amid  all  the  social  cheer,  there  was  still  an  aching 
void  which  nothing  around  you  could  fill? 

But  lesfc  I  make  this  chapter  too  sad,  I  shall  not  speak  of 
our  feelings  as  we  missed  our  baby  brother,  lor  they  who  have 
lost  from  their  fireside  an  active,  playful  child,  understand 
far  better  than  I  can  describe,  the  loneliness,  the  longing  for 
something  gone,  which  becomes  almost  a  part  of  their  being, 
although  at  times  they  may  seem  to  forget.  Children's  grief 
is  seldom  as  lasting  as  that  of  mature  years;  and  hence  it  is 
not  strange  if  1  sometimes  forget  my  sorrow  in  the  joyous  an 
ticipation  of  Thanksgiving  Day,  which  was  then  to  me  but 
another  name  for  plum  puddings,  chicken  pies,  meeting 
dresses,  morocco  shoes,  city  cousins,  a  fire  in  the  parlor,  and. 


MEADOW    BROOK.  19 

fast,  though  not  least,  the  privilege  of  sitting  at  the  first  table, 
and  using  grandma's  six  tiny  silver  spoons,  with  the  initials  of 
her  maiden  name,  "P.  S.,"  marked  upon  them. 

On  such  occasions  my  thoughts  invariably  took  a  leap  back 
ward,  and  looking  at  grandma's  wrinkled  face  and  white, 
shining  hair,  I  would  wonder  if  she  ever  were  young  like  me; 
and  if,  being  young,  she  swung  on  gates  or  climbed  trees,  and 
walked  the  great  beams,  as  I  did.  Then,  with  another  bound, 
my  thoughts  would  penetrate  the  future  when  I,  a  dignified 
grandmother,  should  recline  in  my  arm-chair,  stately  and  stin% 
in  my  heavy  satin  and  silver  gray,  while  my  oldest  son,  a  man 
just  my  father's  size,  should  render  me  all  the  homage  and 
respect  due  to  one  of  my  age.  By  myself,  too,  I  had  several 
times  tried  on  grandma's  clothes,  spectacles,  cap  and  all;  and 
then,  seated  in  her  chair,  with  the  big  Bible  in  my  lap,  I  had 
expounded  Scripture  to  the  imaginary  children  around  me, 
frequently  reprimanding  Rosa  for  her  inattention,  asking  her 
what  "she  thought  would  become  of  her  if  she  didn't  stop 
wriggling  so  in  her  chair,  and  learn  '  the  chief  end  of  man.' ' 

Once,  in  the  midst  of  my  performance,  grandma  herself 
appeared,  and  as  a  natural  consequence  I  was  divested  of  my 
fixings  in  a  much  shorter  space  of  time  than  it  had  taken  me 
to  don  them.  From  that  day  up  to  the  period  of  my  illness, 
I  verily  believe  grandma  looked  upon  me  as  "  given  over  to 
hardness  of  heart  and  blindness  of  mind." 

But  I  am  wandering  from  my  subject,  which  was,  I  be 
lieve,  the  Thanksgiving  succeeding  ramie's  death  and  my 
own  recovery  from  sickness.  For  this  occasion  great  prepara 
tions  were  made,  it  being  confidently  expected  that  my  fa 
ther's  brother,  who  lived  in  Boston,  would  be  with  us,  together 
with  his  wife,  a  lady  whose  reputation  for  sociability  and  suav 
ity  of  manners  was,  with  us,  rather  below  par.  She  was  my 
uncle's  second  wife,  and  rumor  said  that  neither  himself  nor 
his  home  was  as  comfortable  as  they  once  had  been.  From 
the  same  reliable  source,  top,  we  learned  that  she  breakfasted 
in  her  own  room  at  ten,  dined  at  three,  made  or  received  calls 
until  six,  went  to  parties,  soirees,  or  the  theater  in  the  even 
ing,  and  seldom  got  to  bed  until  two  o'clock  in  the  morning; 
a  mode  of  living  which  was  pronounced  little  better  than 
heathenish  by  grandma,  who  had  long  been  anxious  for  an 
opportunity  of  "  giving  Charlotte  Ann  a  piece  of  her  mind." 

Mother,  who  was  more  discreet,  very  wisely  advised  her  not 
to  interfere  with  the  arrangements  of  her  daughter-in-law. 
"  It  would  do  uo  good,"  she  said,  "  and  might  possibly  make 

matters  worse."      Unlikft  most,  old    np.onlft.  errand  ma  wu.fi  nnt 


20  'MEADOW    BROOK. 

very  much  set  in  her  own  way,  and  to  mother's  suggestion  sh» 
replied  that,  "  Mebby  she  shouldn't  say  anything;  'twould 
depend  on  how  many  airs  Charlotte  put  on." 

To  me  the  expected  visit  was  a  sore  trial ;  for,  notwithstand 
ing  my  cheeks  and  neck  were  rounder  and  fuller  than  they 
had  ever  been,  my  head,  with  its  young  crop  of  short,  stiff 
hair,  was  a  terrible  annoyance,  and  more  than  once  I  had  cried 
as  I  saw  in  fancy  the  derisive  smile  with  which  my  dreaded 
aunt  Charlotte  was  sure  to  greet  me.  At  last  sister  Anna, 
who  possessed  a  great  deal  of  taste  in  such  matters,  and  who 
ought  to  have  been  a  milliner,  contrived  for  the  "  picked 
chicken,''  as  she  called  me,  a  black  lace  cap,  which  fitted  me 
so  well,  and  was  so  vastly  becoming,  that  I  lost  all  my  ftars, 
and,  child-like,  began  to  count  the  days  which  must  elapse 
before  I  could  wear  it. 

Meantime,  in  the  kitchen  there  was  a  loud  rattling  of  dishes, 
a  beating  of  eggs,  and  calling  for  wood,  with  which  to  heat  the 
great  brick  oven,  grandma  having  pronounced  the  stove  unfit 
for  baking  a  Thanksgiving  dinner.  From  the  cornfield,  be 
hind  the  barn,  a  golden  pumpkin,  four  times  larger  than  my 
head  and  about  the  same  color,  was  gathered,  and  after  being 
brought  to  the  house,  was  pared,  cut  open,  scraped,  and  sliced 
into  a  little  tin  kettle  with  a  copper  bottom,  where  for  hours 
it  stewed  and  sputtered,  filling  the  atmosphere  with  a  faint, 
sickly  odor,  which  I  think  was  the  main  cause  of  the  severe 
headache  I  took  to  bed  with  me.  Mother,  on  the  contrary, 
differed  from  me,  she  associating  it  in  some  way  with  the 
rapid  disappearance  of  the  raisins,  cinnamon,  sugar,  and  so 
forth,  which,  in  sundry  brown  papers,  lay  open  upon  the 
table.  She  was  generally  right  when  she  made  up  her  mind, 
so  I  shall  not  dispute  the  point — for  let  the  cause  have  been 
what  it  may,  it  was  a  very  sick  little  girl  which,  the  night 
before  Thanksgiving,  was  put  early  to  bed  by  Sally,  who  re 
marked,  as  she  undressed  me,  that  "  I  was  slimpsy  as  f  .ag, 
and  she  wouldn't  wonder  if  I  had  a  collapse,"  adding,  as  she 
tucked  the  clothes  round  me,  that  "  if  I  did,  it  would  n*. 
mighty  apt  to  go  hard  with  me." 

The  next  morning,  just  as  the  first  gray  streaks  of  daylignt 
were  appearing  in  the  east,  I  awoke,  finding,  to  my  great  joy, 
that  my  headache  was  gone.  Rising  upon  my  elbow  and  lean 
ing  far  out  of  bed,  I  pushed  aside  the  striped  curtain  which 
shaded  the  window,  and  looking  out  upon  the  ground  below, 
saw,  to  my  utter  dismay,  that  it  was  covered  with  snow.  To 
me  there  is  nothing  pleasant  in  a  snow-storm,  a  snow-bank,  or 
»  snow-cloud;  and  when  a  child,  I  wwd  to  think  that  with  the 


MEADOW    BROOft.  2 

fall  of  the  first  flake  there  came  over  my  spirits  a  chill,  which 
was  not  removed  until  the  spring-time,  when,  with  ita  cause, 
it  melted  away :  and  even  now,  when,  with  my  rubber  boots, 
I  dare  brave  any  drift  not  more  than  five  feet  four  inches 
high,  I  can  not  say  that  I  have  any  particular  love  for  snow; 
and  as  from  my  window  I  watch  the  descent  of  the  feathery 
flakes,  I  always  feel  an  irresistible  desire  to  make  at  them  wry 
faces — my  favorite  method  of  showing  my  dislike.  On  the 
morning  of  which  I  have  spoken,  I  vented  my  displeasure  in 
the  usual  way,  and  then  I  fell  into  a  deep  sleep,  from  which 
I  was  at  last  awakened  by  the  loud  shouts  of  my  brothers, 
who,  in  the  meadow  across  the  road,  were  pelting  each  other 
with  balls,  occasionally  rolling  over  in  the  pure,  white  snow, 
which  they  hailed  as  an  old  and  well-loved  friend. 

Not  long  after  breakfast  was  over,  Anna  commenced  dress 
ing  Lizzie  and  Carrie,  and  as  she  had  herself  to  beautify  be 
fore  the  arrival  of  the  train  which  was  to  bring  my  uncle  and 
aunt,  it  is  not  surprising  that  she  hurried  rather  faster  than 
was  wholly  agreeable  to  the  little  girl,  who  could  see  no  good 
cause  for  such  haste,  even  if  Herbert  Langley — my  aunt's  son, 
and  a  youth  of  seventeen — was  to  accompany  her.  I,  how 
ever,  who  was  older,  read  things  differently;  and  when  Anna 
pulled  Lizzie's  curly  Jiair,  and  washed  Carrie's  nose  up  instead 
of  doivn,  until  they  both  cried,  and  when  she  herself  stood 
before  the  glass  a  whole  half  hour,  arranging,  just  in  front  of 
her  ears,  two  "  spit  curls,"  sometimes  called  "  beau  catchers," 
I  shrugged  my  shoulders,  wondering  if  she  thought  a  city  boy 
would  care  for  her. 

The  morning  train  from  Boston  was  due  about  ten  o'clock, 
and  as  Meadow  Brook  did  not  then  boast  a  daily  omnibus,  it 
was  necessary  that  some  one  should  be  at  the  depot  in  order 
to  meet  our  expected  guests.  In  New  England  it  is  almost  an 
unheard-of  thing  for  an  entire  family  to  remain  away  from 
church  on  Thanksgiving  Day;  but  considering  all  the  circum 
stances,  it  was,  on  this  occasion,  decided  orthodoxy  for  us  to 
do  so,  and  accordingly  at  nine  o'clock  father  and  old  Sorrel 
started  for  the  depot,  which  was  distant  about  two  and  a  half 
miles.  Long  and  wearisome  to  us  children  was  that  waiting 
for  his  return — for  stiff  and  prim  as  starched  white  aprons, 
best  gowns,  and  hemstitched  pantalets  could  make  us,  we  sat 
in  a  row  like  so  many  automatons,  scarcely  daring  to  move, 
lest  we  should  displace  some  article  of  dress.  In  the  best 
chamber — the  room  which  Aunt  Charlotte  was  to  occupy — a 
cheerful  wood  fire  was  burning,  and  at  least  a  dozen  times  did 
grandma  go  up  there  tojiee  if  all  were  right — now  smoothing 


2%  MEADOW    BROOK. 

the  clean  linen  pillow-case,  now  moving  tiie  jarga  easy-chaii 
a  little  more  to  the  center  of  the  room,  and  again  wiping  from 
the  mirror  some  imaginary  specks  of  dust. 

As  she  was  coming  down  the  twelfth  time,,  the  sound  of 
sleigh-bells  took  us  all  to  the  window,  where,  instead  of  the 
costly  furs  and  rich  velvet  wrappings  of  Aunt  Charlotte,  we 
saw  the  coarse  plaid  shawl  and  dark  delaine  hood  of  Aunt 
Betsey,  while  at  her  side  was  the  shaggy  overcoat  and  seal 
skin  cap  of  her  better  half,  Uncle  Jason.  This  worthy  couple, 
good  enough  in  their  way,  lived  in  U  nion,  about  nine  miles 
from  Meadow  Brook,  where,  for  the  last  ten  years,  they  had 
been  in  the  habit  of  spending  Thanksgiving  without  ever 
seeming  to  think  it  possible  for  them  to  return  the  compli 
ment.  Although  we  had  never  seen  Aunt  Charlotte,  we  knew 
full  well  that  there  was  nothing  in  common  between  her  and 
Aunt  Betsey,  and  after  a  long  consultation  it  had  been  decid 
ed  not  to  invite  the  latter,  who,  as  it  proved,  did  not  deem  an 
-invitation  necessary. 

Uncle  Jason  was  my  father's  half-brother,  and  the  step-son 
.of  grandma,  who,  the  moment  she  saw  them,  was  actually 
guilty  of  the  exclamation,  "  Good  Lord!  what  sent  them 
here?"  Before  any  of  us  could  reply,  the  door  burst  open, 
and  the  loud,  boisterous  laugh  of  Uncle  Jason  greeted  our 
ears,  intermingled  with  the  squeaky  tones  of  Aunt  Betsey, 
who,  addressing  my  mother,  said,  "How  d'ye  dew,  Fanny? 
You  pretty  well?  I  s'pose  you're  lookin'  for  us,  though  you 
didn't  send  us  no  invite?  Jason  kinder  held  off  about  comin'; 
but  I  telled  him  'twas  enough  sight  easier  to  eat  dinner  here 
than  to  cook  it  to  hum. "  

With  as  good  a  grace  as  she  could  possibly  assume,  mother 
returned  her  greeting,  and  then,  taking  her  into  her  own  bed- 
loom,  asked  her  to  remove  her  bonnet,  at  the  same  time  tell 
ing  her  she  was  expecting  Uncle  Joseph  and  Aunt  Charlotte' 
from  Boston.  .  ^ 

"  Now,  you  don't  say  it,"  exclaimed  Aunt  Betsey,  stopping, 
for  a  moment  in  the  adjustment  of  her  cap,  the  fashion  or 
which  was  wonderful,  having  been  devised  by  herself,  as  were 
all  her  articles  of  dress.  "  Now,  dew  tell  if  that  puckerin' 
thing  is  a-comin' !  How  nipped  up  we  shall  have  fa  oe !  I'm 
so  glad  I  wore  this  gown!"  she  continued,  looking  com 
placently  at  her  blue  arid  white  plaid,  the  skirt  of  which  was 
very  short  and  scanty,  besides  being  trimmed  at  the  bottom 
vitli  two  narrow  ruffles. 

With  her  other  peculiarities  Aunt  Betsey  united  that  of 
jealousy,  and  after  getting  herself  warm,  and  looking  round,  a« 


MEADOW    BROOK.  3 

was  her  custom,  she  commenced  with,  "  Now,  ir  I  won't  give 
up!  A  fire  in  the  parlor  chamber!  I  s'pose  Charlotte's  too 
good  to  pull  off  her  things  in  the  bedroom,  as  I  do.  Waal, 
it's  the  luck  of  some  to  be  born  with  a  silver  spoon  in  theii 
mouth." 

Grandma,  who  was  the  only  person  present  except  myself 
made  no  answer,  and  after  a  moment  Aunt  Betsey  continued  \ 
"  Now  I  think  on't,  Miss  Lee  " — she  never  addressed  her  ai 
"  mother,"  for,  from  the  first,  a  mutual  dislike  had  existed 
between  them — "  now  I  think  on't,  Miss  Lee,  mebby  Fanny 
meant  to  slight  me." 

"  Fanny  never  slighted  anybody,"  was  grandma's  reply, 
while  her  polished  knitting-needles  rattled  with  a  vengeance. 

"  Waal,  I  guess  she  thought  Jo's  wife  and  I  wouldn't  hitch 
hosses  exactly,  but  the  land  knows  that  I  don't  care  the  snap 
of  my  finger  for  her.  I'm  as  good  as  anybody,  if  I  don't 
keep  a  hired  maid  and  have  a  carpet  on  every  floor." 

Here  she  was  interrupted  by  the  sound  of  horses'  feet,  and 
rising  up,  grandma  said,  "  I  guess  they've  come.  Will  you 
go  and  meet  them?" 

"  Not  /;  I'm  the  last  one  to  creep,  I  can  tell  you,"  was 
Aunt  Betsey's  reply,  while  grandma  and  I  quitted  the  room, 
leaving  her  sitting  bolt  upright,  with  her  feet  on  the  fender 
and  her  lips  pursed  up,  as  they  always  were  when  she  was  in- 
.dignant. 

Uncle  Joseph,  Aunt  Charlotte,  Herbert  Langley,  had  al 
ready  come;  and  as  the  latter  leaped  upon  the  ground  and  I 
caught  a  sight  of  his  tall,  slender  figure,  I  involuntarily  ex 
claimed,  "  Long-legs,"  a  cognomen  which  he  ever  after  re 
tained  in  our  family.  Shaking  down  his  pants,  he  went 
through  with  a  kind  of  shuffle  not  wholly  unlike  the  High 
land  fling,  ending  his  performance  by  kissing  his  hand  to  the 
group  of  noses  pressed  close  against  the  window-pane. 

"  I  shall  like  him,"  was  my  mental  comment  as  I  turned 
from  him  toward  the  bundle  of  clothes  which  Uncle  Joseph 
lifted  from  the  sleigh  and  deposited  upon  the  steps,  and  which 
we  supposed  to  be  our  dreaded  aunt's. 

"  This  is  perfectly  horrible,"  was  the  first  words  which 
Tssued  from  under  the  folds  of  her  veil;  but  to  what  she  re- 
rerred  I  never  knew. 

We  all  knew  and  loved  Uncle  Joseph,  and  for  his  sake  my 
mother  conquered  whatever  of  prejudice  she  felt  toward  his 
wife,  who  returned  her  cordial  welcome  with  the  extreme  end 
of  her  forefinger,  saying,  when  asked  to  sit  down,  "I'll  go  ti 
my  room  immediately,  if  you  please. ' 


#4  MEADOW    11  ROOK:. 

"Speak  to  the  children  first/'  suggested  my  uncle;  and 
with  a  muttered,  "  It  doesn't  matter/'  the  haughty  lady 
bowei  coldly  to  us,  as  one  hy  one  we  were  presented. 

When  it  came  my  turn,  her  small,  black  eyes  rested  longer 
upon  me,  and  the  faintest  derisive  smile  imaginable  curleo 
the  corners  of  her  mouth.  I  knew  that  either  my  cap  or  nr 
face  had  provoked  that  smile,  and  with  tears  in  my  eyes  I  wat 
turning  away,  when  Herbert  Langley  caught  me  in  his  long 
arms,  exclaiming,  "  And  so  this  is  Rosa,  the  poetess;  I  mean 
to  call  you  little  '  Crop-head  ' — may  I?" 

He  referred,  I  suppose,  to  a  letter  which  I  had  once  write  i 
in  rhyme  to  my  uncle  Joseph;  •  but  before  I  could  frame  any 
reply,  his  mother  said,  scornfully,  "  Don't  be  flattered,  child; 
Herbert  calls  everything  poetry  that  rhymes.  He'll  learn  tc 
discriminate  better  as  he  grows  older;"  and  with  a  stately 
sweep  she  left  the  room,  saying,  as  she  reached  the  rather 
steep  and  narrow  staircase,  "Dear  me!  How  funny!  It's 
like  mounting  a  ladder." 

While  she  was  making  her  toilet  we  had  an  opportunity  of 
learning  something  of  Herbert,  who,  whether  he  were  so  or 
not,  seemed  much  pleased  with  everything  around  him.  Oc 
casionally,  however,  I  doubted  his  sincerity,  for  when  Aunt 
Betsey  was  presented  to  him,  he  appeared  quite  as  much  de 
lighted  with  her  as  with  anything  else,  drawing  his  chair 
closely  to  her  side,  and  asking  her  numberless  questions  about 
the  best  modes  of  making  cheese  and  raising  chickens,  while 
all  the  time  there  was  a  peculiarly  quizzical  expression  in  his 
eyes,  which  were  dark  and  very  handsome,  saving  that  the'lids 
were  too  red  to  suit  my  ideas  of  beauty.  To  Anna  and  her 
"  spit  curls  "  he  took  kindly,  and  ere  his  lady  mother  made 
her  appearance  a  second  time  he  had  put  his  arm  round  her 
twice,  telling  hey  she  should  come  to  Boston  some  time  and  go 
\to  school.  A  rustle  of  silk  upon  the  stairs  announced  the 
[descent  of  Aunt  Charlotte,  and  with  her  nose  slightly  elevat- 
/ed,  ready  for  any  emergency,  she  entered  the  parlor,  where 
she  was  introduced  to  Aunt  Betsey,  who,  courtesying  straight 
down,  "  hoped  to  see  her  well,"  adding,  that  she  "  s'posed 
she'd  come  to  the  country  to  see  how  poor  folks  lived." 

Falling  back  into  the  rocking-chair  which  Anna  brought  for 
her,  Aunt  Charlotte  made  no  particular  reply,  save  an  occa~ 
sional  attack  upon  her  hartshorn.  Aunt  Betsey,  however,, 
nothing  daunted,  endeavored  to  engage  her  in  conversation  by 
asking  if  "  she  knew  Liza  Ann  Willcott,  a  tailoress  girl,  that 
boarded  with  a  Miss  Johnson,  who  used  to  live  in  Union,  but 
who  now  lived  in  Boston," 


MEADOW    BKOOK.  25 

Frowning  majestically,  Aunt  Charlotte  replied  that  she  had 
not  the  honor  of  Miss  Willcott's  acquaintance;  whereupon 
Aunt  Betsey  advised  her  to  make  it  by  all  means,  assuring 
her  that  "  Liza  Ann  was  a  first-rate  girl,  and  that  Miss  John 
son  was  the  best  kind  of  a  neighbor,  always  willin'  to  lend,  or 
do  a  good  turn." 

Here,  with  a  haughty  toss  of  her  head,  Aunt  Charlotte 
turned  away  and  began  talking  in  a  low  tone  to  Herbert,  he 
being  the  only  one  who,  she  seemed  to  think,  was  at  all  worth 
noticing.  It  is  strange  how  much  constraint  one  person  car 
sometimes  throw  over  a  room  full.  On  this  occasion,  had  m 
ogress  suddenly  alighted  in  our  midst,  we  could  not  have  been 
more  silent  or  less  at  ease  than  we  were  with  that  Boston  lady, 
sitting  there  so  starched  and  stiff,  her  fat  hand?  folded  one 
over  the  other,  and  the  tips  of  her  satin  gaiters  just  visible 
from  beneath  the  ample  folds  of  her  rich  silk  dress.  Even 
Uncle  Joseph,  whose  genial  nature  usually  shed  so  much  sun 
light  over  our  circle,  was  grave  and  reserved,  rarely  venturing 
a  remark,  or,  if  he  did,  glancing  at  his  wife  to  see  if  she  ap 
proved  it.  Uncle  Jason,  who  painfully  felt  his -own  awk 
wardness,  sat  tipped  back  in  his  chair  against  the  wall,  with 
his  feet  on  the  rounds,  while  his  fingers  kept  time  to  a  tune, 
which  he  was  evidently  whistling  to  himself.  Glad  were  we 
all  when  finally  called  to  dinner,  the  savory  smell  of  which 
had  long  been  whetting  our  appetites. 

"  What!  dinner  so  soon?"  said  Aunt  Charlotte,  consulting 
her  gold  watch,  which  pointed  to  half  past  two.  "  I  don't 
believe  I  can  force  down  a  mouthful." 

But,  in  spite  of  her  belief,  she  did  manage  to  make  way 
with  the  contents  of  her  well-filled  plate,  which  was  passed 
back  a  second  time  to  be  replenished.  So  eager  were  we  all 
to  serve  her  that  we  partially  forgot  Aunt  Betsey,  who,  after 
waiting  awhile  for  a  potato,  at  last  arose,  and  reaching  half 
way  across  the  table,  secured  one  for  herself,  saying,  by  way 
af  apology,  that  "  she  believed  in  looking  out  for  Number 
One,  for  if  she  didn't  nobody  else  would." 

So  incensed  was  she  with  what  she  termed  our  neglect,  that- 
the  moment  dinner  was  over  she  insisted  upon  going  home, 
saying,  as  she  bid  us  good-bye,  that  "  when  she  went  again 
where  she  wasn't  wanted  she  guessed  she  should  know  it;" 
and  adding,  while  two  big  tears  dropped  from  the  end  of  her 
nose,  that  "  she  never  s'posed  she  should  be  so  misused  by 
folks  that  she'd  done  so  much  for," 

The  sight  of  her  tears  brought  forth  answering  ones  from 
oi<3>  for.  with  all  her  peculiarities.  I  loved  Aunt  Betsey,  and  I 


26  MEADOW    BROOK. 

remembered  that  when  sickness  and  death  were  among  us  sne 
had  left  her  own  home  to  stay  with  us,  ministering  as  far  as 
she  was  able  to  our  comfort.  Many  a  night  had  she  watched 
with  me,  and  though  she  invariably  placed  the  lamp  so  that 
its  rays  glared  full  in  my  face;  though  she  slept  three  fourths 
of  the  time,  snoring  so  loudly  as  to  keep  me  awake;  and 
though  at  the  slightest  change  for  the  worse  in  my  symptoms 
she  always  routed  the  whole  household,  telling  them,  "  Rosa 
was  dyin'  now,  if  she  ever  was/'  thereby  almost  frightening 
me  to  death,  I  knew  that  she  meant  well,  and  in  my  heart  I 
liked  her  far  better  than  I  did  my  Boston  aunt,  who,  after 
bidding  her  sister-in-law  good-bye,  went  back  to  the  parl®r, 
saying  to  her  husband  in  a  tone  loud  enough  for  us  to  hear, 
"  What  a  vulgar  creature!  Did  you  notice  her  hands?  Why- 
they  are  as  coarse  and  black  as  a  servant-girl's." 

"  And  she's  none  the  worse  for  that,"  interposed  grandma, 
warming  up  in  defense  of  her  son's  wife.  "  She  has  now 
and  then  an  odd  streak,  but  on  the  whole  she's  better  than 
•they'll  average. " 

After  this,  Aunt  Charlotte  relapsed  into  silence,  which  she 
did  not  break  until  she  overheard  Herbert  proposing  to  Anna 
a  ride  on  the  morrow.  Then  she  roused  up,  and  while  her 
little  black  eyes  snapped,  she  said: 

"  I  am  going  home  to-morrow  afternoon,  and  so  are  you. 
Consequently  there'll  be  no  time  for  a  ride." 

In  a  twinkling  Herbert's  thumb  and  finger  went  up  to  hia 
nose — a  gesture  which  I  did  not  then  understand,  but  it  struck 
me  disagreeably,  and  had  also  the  effect  of  silencing  Aunt 
Charlotte,  who  made  no  further  remark  on  the  subject  until 
they  chanced  to  be  alone,  when  I,  who  was  in  the  hall,  heard 
her  say: 

"  What  can  induce  you  to  talk  so  much  with  that  raw 
country  girl?  Your  city  friends  would  laugh  well  if  they 
knew  it." 

Consigning  his  "  city  friends  "  to  the  care  of  the  old  gen 
tleman  supposed  to  preside  over  the  lower  regions,  Herbert 
walked  off  in  quest  of  the  "  raw  country  girl,"  by  whose  side 
he  sat  the  remainder  of  the  evening,  talking  to  her  so  low  that 
Lizzie  whispered  to  me  her  private  opinion  that  "  they  were 
courting." 

The  next  morning  Aunt  Charlotte  did  not  appear  at  break* 
fast,  it  being  so  much  earlier  than  her  usual  hour  of  rising 
that  she  felt  wholly  unequal  to  the  task.  Accordingly* 
though  we  did  not  wait,  the  table  did  until  ten  o'clock,  when, 
pale  and  languid,  she  came  down,  seeming  much  disturbed  to 


MEADOW    BROOK. 

find  that  Herbert  had  coaxed  Anna  into  gomg  with  him  to 
call  on  Aunt  Betsey,  to  whom  he  had  taken  quite  a  fancy, 
and  who  had  asked  him  to  visit  her  "if  he  didn't  feel  too 
smart." 

Darting  an  angry  glance  at  her  husband,  she  said:  "  How 
could  you  suffer  it?"  asking  at  the  same  time  if  there  was  a 
hotel  on  the  road.  Being  told  that  there  was  one  at  Union 
and  another  half-way  between  that  and  Meadow  Brook,  she 
seemed  more  disturbed  than  ever,  eating  little  or  no  breakfast, 
.and  announcing  her  intention  of  staying  over  that  day,  or,  at 
'all  events,  until  Herbert  returned.  Seating  herself  at  the 
window,  she  watched  and  waited,  while  the  hours  crept  on 
and  the  clock  in  grandma's  room  struck  four  ere  the  jiead  of 
"  old  Sorrel  "  was  visible  far  down  the  road.  Then  with  an 
eagerness  wholly  incomprehensible  to  me,  she  started  up, 
straining  her  eyes  anxiously  in  the  direction  of  the  fast-ap 
proaching  cutter.  As  it  came  nearer  we  all  observed  some- 
tiling  rather  singular  in  the  position  of  Herbert,  who  seemed 

linnrr  almrkef  aovnsa    Anna's  Ian    ivnilo  fiho  wa.s  rlrivinort 


_  almost  across  Anna's  lap,  while  she  was  driving! 

"^Merciful  heavens!  it's  as  1  feared!"  was  Aunt  Charlotte's 
exclamation,  as  she  sunk  upon  the  lounge,  moaning  bitterly, 
and  covering  her  face  with  the  cushion,  that  she  might  not 
gee  the  disgrace  of  her  only  son — for  Herbert  was  drunk  ! 

Lifting  him  out,  my  father  and  uncle  laid  him  upon  -the 
settee  in  the  sitting-room,  just  where  little  Jamie  had  been 
laid,  and  my  mother,  as  she  looked  upon  the  senseless  inebri 
ate  resting  where  once  had  lain  the  beautiful,  inanimate  form 
of  her  youngest  born,  thought  how  far  less  bitter  was  her  cup 
of  sorrow  than  was  that  of  the  half-fainting  woman,  who 
would  rather,  far  rather,  her  boy  had  died  with  the  dew  of 
babyhood  upon  his  brow  than  to  have  seen  him  thus  debased 
and  fallen. 

The  story  was  soon  told,  my  uncle  supplying  all  points 
which  Anna  could  not.  It  seems  that  early  in  life  Herbert 
had  acquired  a  love  for  the  wine  and  porter  which  daily  graced 
Ids  mother's  dinner-table.  As  he  grew  older  his  taste  in 
creased  for  something  stronger,  until  now  nothing  save  brandy 
could  satisfy  the  cravings  of  his  appetite.  More  than  once  had 
he  been  brought  home  in  a  state  of  entire  unconsciousness — 
for  he  was  easily  intoxicated,  it  usually  taking  but  one  glass  to 
render  him  perfectly  foolish,  while  a  second  was  generally 
sure  10  finish  the  work.  These  drunken  fits  were  always  fol 
lowed  by  resolutions  of  amendment,  and  it  was  now  so  long 
since  he  had  drunk  that  his  mother  began  to  have  strong 
of  his  reform:  but  these,  alas!  were  now  dashed  to  th& 


23  "MEADOW    BROOK/* 

ground.  Unfortunately,  Uncle  Jason  had  offered  the  young 
man  a  glass  of  cider,  which  immediately  awoke  in  its  full  vigor 
his  old  love  for  arlent  spirits.  Just  across  the  road,  creaking 
in  the  November  wind,  hung  the  sign  of  the  "  Golden 
Fleece, "  and  in  that  direction,  soon  after  dinner,  Herbert, 
bent  his  steps,  taking  down  at  one  time  a  tumbler  two  thirds 
full  of  raw  brandy.  This  made  him  very  talkative  and  very 
affectionate,  insomuch  that  he  kissed  Aunt  Betsey,  who,  as 
soon  as  she  could,  started  him  for  home.  When  the  half-way^ 
house — called,  in  opposition  to  its  neighbor,  "  Silver  Skin  " 
was  reached,  Herbert  insisted  upon  stopping  and  taking  an 
other  glass,  which  ere  long  rendered  him  so  helpless  that 
Anna  was  obliged  to  take  charge  of  Sorrel  herself,  while  her 
companion  fell  asleep,  leaning  his  head  upon  her  shoulder  and 
gradually  sinking  lower  and  lower  until  he  rested  in  her  lap. 

All  that  night  he  remained  in  the  sitting-room,  which  in  the 
morning  presented  so  sorry  and  disgusting  an  appearance  that 
when  Aunt  Charlotte  for  the  hundredth  time  wished  she  had 
never  come  to  Meadow  Brook,  our  whole  family  mentally  re 
sponded  a  fervent  Amen.-  Herbert,  when  fully  restored  to 
consciousness,  seemed  heartily  ashamed  of  himself,  crying  like 
a  girl,  and  winding  his  arms  around  his  mother's  neck  so  affec 
tionately  that  I  did  not  blame  her  when  she  forgave  him  and 
wiped  away  her  tears. 

She  might  not  have  had  much  faith  in  his  sincerity  could 
she  have  heard  his  conversation  with  Anna,  whom  he  man 
aged  to  withdraw  from  the  family  to  the  recess  of  a  distant 
window.  Alone  with  her,  his  manner  changed,  and  with  flash 
ing  eyes  he  charged  it  to  his  mother,  who,  ho  said,  first 
taught  him  to  love  it  by  allowing  him,  when  a  little  boy,  to 
drink  the  bottom  of  the  wine  glasses  after  dinner. 

"  And  if  I  fill  a  drunkard's  grave,"  said  he,  "  she  will  be 
to  blame;  but,"  he  added,  as  he  saw  Anna  involuntarily  shud 
der,  "  it  shall  not  be.  I  can  reform.  I  will  reform,  and  you 
must  help  me  do  it." 

Anna  looked  wonderingly  at  him,  while  he  continued,  tak 
ing  her  hand  and  removing  from  it  a  plain  gold  ring,  which 
grandma  had  given  her  on  her  fifteenth  birthday,  "  You  must 
let  me  wear  this  as  a  talisman  to  protect  me  from  evil. 
Whenever  I  am  tempted  I  shall  look  at  it  and  be  saved." 

Anna  hesitated  awhile;  but  the  soft,  handsome  eyes  of  Her 
bert  Langley  had  woyen  around  her  a  spell  she  could  not  break, 
and  at  last  she  consented,  receiving  from  him  in  return  a  dia 
mond  ring,  which  he  told  her  was  worth  two  hundred  dollars. 
When  this  became  known  to  mother,  she  very  wisely  insisted 


BROOft.  2§ 

On  Anna's  returning  it,  and  together  with  the  note  explaining 
the  why  and  the  wherefore,  it  went  back  to  its  owner,  who  im 
mediately  replied  by  a  letter,  the  contents  of  which  were  care 
fully  kept  from  us  all.     The  effect,  however,  was  plainly  visi 
ble;  for,  from  the  time  of  its  receipt  we  lost  our  merry,  light- 
hearted  sister,  and  in  her  place  there  moved  among  us  a  sober, 
*)  listless  girl,  whom  grandma  called  foolish,  and  whom  Charlie 
^pronounced  "love-sick." 

'  Herbert's  letter  was  soon  answered;  but  when  Anna  re 
quested  my  father  to  put  it  in  the  post-office,  he  refused,  tell 
ing  her  "  she  should  not  correspond  with  such  a  drunken 
dog."  Possibly  it  w»s  wrong  in  him  thus  to  address  her,  for 
kind  words  and  persuasive  arguments  might  have  won  her 
to  reason;  but  now  a-  spirit  of  opposition  was  roused. 
"  Herbert  was  wronged — misunderstood,"  so  Anna  though^ 
and  the  letter  which  father  refused  to  take,  was  conveyed  by 
other  hands,  a  postscript  longer  than  the  letter  itself  being 
first  added. 

After  this  there  was  no  more  trouble.  Anna  wrote  regu 
larly  to  Herbert,  who  promptly  responded — bis  missives  always 
being  directed  to  one  of  Anna's  schoolmates,  who  was  just 
romantic  enough  to  think  her  companion  persecuted.  Gradu 
ally  I  was  let  into  the  secret,  and  was  occasionally  employed 
to  carry  Anna's  notes  to  and  from  the  house  of  her  friend, 
I  did  not  then  consider  the  great  wrong  I  was  doing;  but 
since  I  have  shed  many  a  bitter  tear  to  think  that  I  in  any 
way  helped  to  work  my  sister's  ruin. 

CHAPTER  III. 

COUSIN   WILL. 

IF  so  far  as  the  golden  Californian  land  this  book  of  mine 
»3hall  reach,  it  may,  perchance,  fall  into  the  hands  of  some 
who,  from  their  number,  can  select  the  veritable  hero,  the 
"  Cousin  Will  "  of  my  story.  If  so,  I  would  ask  them  tn 
think  as  leniently  as  possible  of  his  faults,  herein  recorded,  for 
the  mustached  Will  of  California,  whose  generous  conduct 
wins  the  love  of  all,  is  hardly  the  same  wild,  mischievous  boy 
who  once  kept  our  home  in  a  perpetual  state  of  excitement. 

The  tears  were  scarcely  yet  dried,  which  he  had  shed  ov«r 
his  mother's  coffin,  when  he  came  to  us,  and  in  one  corner  of 
his  green,  oval  trunk  there  lay  a  tress  of  soft  brown  hair, 
which  he  had  severed  from  that  mother's  head.  He  was  the 
son  of  my  mother's  only  sister,  who,  on  her  death-bed,  had 
committed  him  to  the  guardianship  ©i  my  father,  asking  him 


30  MEADOW    BROOK. 

to  deal  gently  with  her  wayward  boy,  for  beneath  his  faulty 
exterior  there  lay  a  mine  of  excellence  which  naught  save 
words  of  love  could  fathom. 

Without  meaning  to  be  so,  perhaps,  my  father  was  a  stern, 
reserved  man,  never  seeking  the  confidence  of  his  children, 
whose  real  characters  he  did  not  understand.  It  is  true  he 
loved  us — provided  for  all  our  wants,  and,  as  far  as  possible,  : 
strove  to  make  us  what  the  children  of  a  New  England  Pres 
byterian  deacon  ought  to  be;  but  he  seldom  petted  us,  and  it 
Carrie,  with  her  sunny  face  and  chestnut  curls,  sometimes 
stole  up  behind  him  and  twined  her  chubby  arms  around  his 
neck,  he  seemed  ashamed  to  return  her  caress  unless  they 
were  alone.  Brother  Charlie  he  looked  upon  as  almost  incor 
rigible,  but  if  he  found  it  hard  to  cope  with  his  bold,  fun- lov 
ing  spirit,  it  was  tenfold  more  difficult  for  him  to  tame  the 
mischievous  Will,  whom  scarcely  any  one  could  manage,  but 
who,  strange  to  say,  was  a  general  favorite. 

It  was  night  when  he  reached  Meadow  Brook,  and  I  was  in 
bed,  but  through  the  closed  doors  I  caught  the  sound  of  his 
voice,  and  in  an  instant  I  experienced  a  sensation  of  delight, 
as  if  in  him  I  should  find  a  kindred  spirit.  I  could  not  wait 
until  morning  before  I  saw  him,  and,  rising  softly,  I  groped 
my  way  down  the  dark  stair -way  to  a  knot-hole,  which  had 
more  than  once  done  me  service  when  sent  from  the  room 
while  my  mother  and  her  company  told  something  I  was  not 
to  hear!  He  was  sitting  so  that  the  light  of  the  lamp  fell  full 
upon  his  face,  which,  with  its  high,  white  brow,  hazel  eyes, 
and  mass  of  wavy  hair,  seemed  to  me  the  most  beautiful  I 
had  ever  seen.  Involuntarily  I  thought  of  my  own  plain  feat 
ures,  and  saying  to  myself,  "  He'll  never  like  me,  never,"  I 
crept  back  to  bed,  wondering  if  it  were  true  that  homely  little 
girls  made  sometimes  handsome  women. 

The  next  morning,  wishing  to  produce  as  favorable  an  im 
pression  as  possible,  I  was  an  unusually  long  time  making  my? 
toilet — trying  on  one  dress  after  another,  and  finally  deciding* 
upon  a  white  cambric,  which  I  never  wore  except  to  church,  ort 
on  some  similar  occasion.  Giving  an  extra  brush  to  my  hair, 
which  had  grown  out  darker  and  so  very  curly  that  Charlie 
called  me  "  Snarly-pate/'  I  started  for  the  breakfast-room, 
where  the  family  were  already  assembled. 

"  What  upon  earth  has  the  child  got  on?"  was  grandma's 
exclamation  as  she  looked  at  me,  both  over  and  under  hep 
glasses,  while  mother  bid  me  "  go  straight  back  and  change 
my  dress,"  asking  "  why  I  had  put  on  my  very  best." 
ta_"  JSettin'  her  cap  for  Bill,  I  guess,"  suggested  Charlii, 


MEADOW    BROOK.  »1 

who,  boy-like,  was  already  on  terms  of  great  intimacy  with 
his  cousin. 

More  angry  than  grieved,  I  went  back  to  my  room,  where 
I  pouted  for  half  an  hour  or  more.  Then,  selecting  the  worst- 
looking  dress  I  had.,  I  again  descended  to  the  dining-room, 
where  Charlie  presented  me  to  Will,  telling  him  at  the  same 
time  "  to  spare  all  comments  on  my  appearance,  as  it  mad* 
me  madder  than  a  March  hare  to  be  called  ugly." 

"  I  don't  think  she's  ugly.  Anyway,  /  like  her  looks, '' 
said  Will,  smiling  down  upon  me  with  those  eyes  which  have 
since  made  many  a  heart  beat  as  mine  did  then,  for  'twas  the 
first  compliment  of  the  kind  I  had  ever  received. 

Will  had  always  lived  in  the  city,  and  now,  anxious  to  see 
the  lions  of  the  country  at  once,  he  proposed  to  Charlie  a  ram 
ble  over  the  farm,  inviting  me  to  accompany  them,  which  I 
did  willingly,  notwithstanding  that  Charlie  muttered  some 
thing  about  "  not  wanting  a  gal  stuck  along." 

In  the  pasture  we  came  across  old  Sorrel,  whom  Will  said 
he  would  ride  as  they  did  in  a  circus,  if  Charlie  would  only 
catch  him.  This  was  an  easy  task,  for  Sorrel,  suspecting  no 
evil,  came  up  to  us  quite  readily,  when  Will,  leaping  upon 
his  back,  commenced,  whooping  and  hallooing  so  loudly  that 
Sorrel's  mettle  was  up,  and  for  nearly  an  hour  he  ran  quite  as 
fast  as  his  rider  could  wish.  But  circus-riding  was  not  Sor 
rel's  forte,  and  he  probably  grew  dizzy,  for  he  at  length  stum 
bled  and  fell,  injuring  his  lore  foot  in  some  way,  so  that,  to 
our  dismay,  we  found  he  was  unable  to  walk  without  a  great 
effort. 

"  Je-mi-my  !  Won't  the  old  gentleman  rare!"  said  "Char 
lie,  who  was  never  very  choice  of  his  language. 

Will,  on  the  contrary,  seemed  more  concerned  for  the 
horse;  bringing  water  in  his  hat,  and  bathing  the  fast-swell 
ing  limb  of  the  poor  animal,  who  appeared  to  be  grateful  for 
the  kindness.  Charlie  proposed  that  we  should  keep  it  a 
secret;  but  to  this  Will  would  not  listen,  and  in  a  plain, 
straightforward  way  he  confessed  what  he  had  done;  and  fa-= 
..ther,  who  saw  that  Sorrel  was  temporarily  injured,  forgave 
pirn,  for  he  could  not  resist  the  pleading  of  Will's  dark  eyes. 
i  This  was  his  first  day's  adventure;  the  next  one  was  a  little 
different.  Finding  a  cow  in  the  lane,  he  tried  the  experiment 
of  milking,  succeeding  so  well  that  when  at  night  Sally  came 
in  with  her  half -filled  pail,  she  declared  that  "  Line-back  was 
drying  up,  for  she'd  only  given  a  drop  or  so."  For  this  and 
numerous  other  misdemeanors,  Will  also  received  absolution; 
but  when,  on  the  second  Sabbath  after  his  arrival,  he  and 


32  MEADOW   BROOK. 

Charlie  both  were  missed  from  Church,  whither  they  had  start 
ed  a  full  half  hour  before  the  rest  of  our  family,  father  grew 
fidgety,  holding  his  hymn-book  wrong  side  up,  and  sitting, 
instead  of  standing,  during  the  prayer — a  thing  he  was  never 
known  to  do  before.  He  was  very  strict  in  the  observance  of 
the  fourth  commandment,-  as  indeed  were  most  of  the  citizens 
of  Meadow  Brook,  it  being  an  almost  State  Prison  offense  to 
stay  away  from  church  on  the  Sabbath,  or  speak  above  a  whis 
per  until  after  sunset. 

By  the  way,  I  think  it  was  a  mistake,  this  converting  the/ 
Sabbath  into  a  day  so  much  to  be  dreaded  by  the  youthful, 
fun-loving  members  of  the  family,  who  are  not  yet  old  enough 
to  see  the  propriety  of  having  in  reserve  a  Sunday  face  as  well 
as  a  Sunday  gown.  I  would  not  have  that  sacred  day  pro 
faned,  but  I  would  have  it  divested  of  that  gloom  with  which 
it  is  too  often  associated  in  the  child's  mind.  I  would  have 
everything  connected  with  it  as  cheerful  and  pleasant  as  possi 
ble,  and  in  these  days  of  Sabbath-schools  and  Sabbath  school- 
books,  it  seems  an  easy  matter  to  make  it  "  The  day  of  all  the 
week  the  best."  I  well  remember  one  rainy  Sunday,  when 
the  whole  family  were  obliged  to  remain  at  home,  the  younger 
ones  reciting  the  Catechism  to  grandma,  committing  to  mem 
ory  and  repeating  to  mother  ten  verses  of  the  fifth  chapter  of 
Matthew,  and  then  being  compelled  to  sit  up  stiff  and  straight 
while  father  read  to  us  a  long  metaphysical  sermon,  which  he 
interspersed  and  lengthened  out  with  remarks  of  his  own, 
among  which  was  the  consoling  one  that  "  Heaven  was  one 
eternal  Sabbath." 

This  was  too  much  for  Charlie,  whose  mind,  instead  of 
dwelling  on  the  words  of  the  good  divine,  was -sadly  vander- 
ing  toward  a  nest  of  young  white  pigs  only  that  iio-ning 
born.  Turning  toward  me  with  a  most  rueful  face,  le  tvhis- 
pered,  "  Darned  if  I'll  go  there.  I'll  run  away  first'/' 

Of  course  I  laughed  aloud — how  could  I  help  it;  and  on 
my  saying  that  "Charlie  made  me,"  we  were  both  ordered 
from  the  room  in  disgrace,  which  latter  we  bore  jnanf ully — 
Charlie  going  straight  to  his  pigs,  while  I  stole  up  garret  to  a  » 
big  candle-box,  where,  on  one  of  my  old  dresses,  lay  sleeping 
six  beautiful  kittens. 

But  I  am  wandering  from  my  subject,  which  was  the  time 
when  Will  and  Charlie  wsre  missing  from  church,  and  when, 
to  his  utter  astonishment,  father  learned  that  they  had  gone 
to  the  consecration  of  a  Roman  Catholic  church,  which  had 
recently  been  erected  a  little  out  of  the  village,  on  an  emi 
nence  where  its  white  cross  could  be  seen  from  every  point. 


MEADOW    BROOK.  33 

Against  the  catholics  as  a  religious  denomination  my  father 
was  prejudiced;  and  when  he  ascertained  that  his  son,  born  cf 
orthodox  parents,  and  baptized  in  the  orthodox  faith,  had  not 
only  run  away  to  their  church,  but  had  also  paid  twenty-five 
cents — the  price  of  admission — he  was  a  good  deal  excited, 
and,  for  a  deacon,  showed  considerable  temper.  It  was,  of 
course,  Will's  doings,  he  having  coaxed  Charlie  to  go  by  tell* 
ing  him  of  the  wonderful  sights  there  were  to  be  seen. 

At  a  late  hour  they  came  home,  loitering  around  the  barn  a 
long  time  before  they  ventured  into  the  presence  of  my  father, 
whom  my  grandmother  had  somewhat  appeased  by  telling 
him  that  ' i  boys  must  sow  their  wild  oats  some  time,  and  it 
wasn't  best  to  be  too  strict  with  'em,  for  it  only  made  'em  act 
worse,"  adding  that  "  the  Catholics  were  not  the  worst  folks 
in  the  world,  and  they  had  just  as  much  right  to  their  form 
of  worship  as  we  had  to  ours."  This  in  a  measure  mollified 
him,  and  consequently  the  two  boys  only  received  a  long  lect 
ure,  and  were  debarred  the  privilege  of  going  to  the  village, 
except  on  Sundays,  for  three  weeks — a  punishment  which  an 
noyed  Will  exceedingly.  But  nothing  could  subdue  him,  and 
the  moment  the  three  weeks  had  expired  he  was  as  ready  for 
mischief  as  ever.  For  a  long  time  the  coming  of  a  circus  had 
been  heralded  by  flaming  handbills  in  red  an«l  yellow,  one  of 
which  Will  plastered  on  to  our  great  barn  door,  from  which 
conspicuous  post  it  was  removed  by  my  father,  who  conscien 
tiously  turned  his  back  upon  men  and  women  riding  on  their 
heads,  declaring  it  an  outrage  upon,  all  rules  of  propriety,  and 
denouncing  circuses  and  circus-going  people  as  utterly  low 
and  vulgar.  Thus  from  my  earliest  remembrance  had  I  been 
taught,  and  still  my  heart  would  throb  faster,  whenever,  with 
the  beat  of  the  drum  and  the.  sound  of  the  bugle,  the  long 
^  processsion  swept  past  our  door,  and  more  than  once  I  had 
stolen  to  the  top  of  the  hill,  whence  could  be  seen  the  floating 
banner  and  swaying  canvas,  watching  from  afar  the  evil  I 
dared  not  approach. 

Great,  then,  was  my  surprise,  when,  on  the  morning  of  the 
eventful  day,  Will  suggested  that  Charlie,  John,  Lizzie,  and 
I  should  run  away  in  the  evening  and  visit  the  "  doings,"  as 
he  called  it.  I  was  shocked  that  he  should  propose  my  going 
to  such  a  place.  "  It  was  low  and  vulgar,"  I  told  him, 
"  and  no  one  went  there  but  loafers  and  rowdies." 

But  he  assured  me  that  I  was  mistaken,  saying  that  "  some 
of  our  most  respectable  people  attended;''  and  then  he  won 
dered  "  how  I  was  ever  to  know  anything  unless  I  once  in  a 
while  went  to  a  circus,  or  a  theater,  or  something.  It  was 


34  MEADOW    BROOK. 

perfectly  ridiculous,,"  he  said,  "  for  father  to  keep  as  cooped 
up  at  home.  Nobody  else  did  so.  There  was  Lawyer 
Smith's  daughter,  and  Judge  Brown's  niece  in  Albany,  who 
always  went,  and  if  it  didn't  hurt  them  it  wouldn't  Irirt  me." 

Thus  Will  reasoned,  persuading  me  at  last;  and  just  at 
dark,  Lizzie  and  I,  on  pretense  of  going  to  bed  earty,  went  to  - 
our  room,  dressed  ourselves  in  our  best — I  donning  the  white 
cambric  which  I  had  worn  on  the  first  day  of  Will's  arrival — 
and  then  when  we  were  ready,  got  out  upon  the  roof  of  the 
wood-shed,  which  came  up  under  our  window,  descending 
thence  by  means  of  a  ladder  which  Will  and  Charlie  brought 
from  the  barn.  I  had  the  utmos.t  confidence  in  Will,  and  yet 
as  I  drew  near  the  tent,  and  saw  the  rabble,  whose  appearance 
fully  equaled  my  father's  description,  I  wished  myself  away. 
Just  then  the  band  inside  struck  up,  and  giving  my  fears  to 
the  wind,  I  pressed  forward,  once  involuntarily  turning  my 
head  aside  as  I  heard  a  man  near  the  door  exclaim,  "  Beacon 
Lee's  children,  as  I  live!  Is  the  world  coming  to  an  end?" 

Instantly  rny  face  flushed,  for  I  felt  that  injustice  was  done 
to  my  father,  and  my  first  impulse  was  to  exonerate  him  from 
all  blame  by  explaining  that  we  had  run  away;  but  ere  I 
could  do  so,  Will  pulled  me  along,  and  in  a  moment  we  were 
in  the  close,  heated  atmosphere  of  the  vast  arena,  where  were 
congregated  more  than  a  thousand  people  of  all  ages  and 
conditions.  I  was  confounded,  for  it  seemed  to  me  that  each 
and  every  one  was  pointing  toward  us  the  finger  of  scorn,  and 
never  since  have  I  felt  so  wholly  degraded  and  ashamed  as  I 
did  at  the  moment  of  my  first  entrance  to  a  circus! 

We  had  been  but  a  short  time  seated  when  Will,  who  had 
divined  my  feelings,  nudged  my  elbow,  and  pointing  toward  a 
group  just  entering,  said,  "  See,  there's  Squire  Talbot,  his 
wife  and  daughter,  Doctor  Griffin,  and  lots  more  of  Meadow , 
Brook  aristocracy     Now,  ain't  you  glad  you  came?" 

It  was  as  he  said;  and  as  I  saw  the  above-mentioned  indf- 
nduals — some  of  them  professors  of  religion,  and  all  of  them 
people  of  the  first  standing  in  town — I  can  scarcely  tell  how  I 
felt.  It  was  a  sensation  of  mingled  pleasure,  bewilderment, 
and  perplexity.  Could  it  be  that,  after  all,  my  father  was 
wrong;  that  he  was  too  strict  with  us,  debarring  us  from  in 
nocent  amusements — for  if  it  were  proper  for  members  of  the 
church  to  frequent  such  places,  why  was  it  not  for  me?  Now 
I  can  answer  promptly  that  my  father  was  right,  wholly 
right;  but  I  was  puzzled  then,  and  gradually  I  began  to  care 
less  for  being  there,  and  to  have  less  fear  of  what  father  would 
say  when  he  found  it  out.  I  was  growing  very  brave,  in- 


'  MEADOW    BROOK-.  35 

trenching  myself  behind  the  bad  example  of  those  who  little 
suspected  the  harm  their  presence  was  doing.  Father  did  not 
know  the  ways  of  the  world,  I  thought;  but  after  being  en 
lightened  by  me,  I  was  sure  he  would  become  a  convert  at 
once,  and  possibly  at  the  next  circus  he  would  be  in  attend 
ance;  but  from  this  last  idea  I  involuntarily  shrunk,  thinking 
I  could  never  respect  him  again  were  he  guilty  of  such 
thing. 

I  enjoyed  it  vastly,  all  except  the  riding  of  the  girl,  who,  i 
fancied,  had  on  her  little  sister's  dress,  and  when  she  came 
out  I  looked  for  a  place  where  to  hide  my  head;  but  hearing 
the  spectators  cheer  louder  than  ever,  I  cast  furtive  glances  at 
those  around  me,  discovering,  to  my  amazement,  that  they 
seemed  more  delighted  with  her  than  with  anything  else; 
while,  to  crown  all,  I  heard  Will  telling  a  young  man  that  * '  she 
was  a  splendid  rider;  that  he  never  saw  but  one  who  could 
beat  her,  and  that  was  a  girl  in  Albany. "  Then  turning  to 
Lizzie,  he  asked  if  she  would  not  like  to  ride  in  that  way? 

With  an  involuntary  shudder  I  threw  my  arm  round  my 
sister,  as  if  to  protect  her  from  what  I  felt  would  be  worse 
than  a  thousand  deaths.  Gradually  there  was  dawning  upon 
my  mind  the  suspicion  that  a  circus  after  all  was  not  exactly 
the  school  for  pure  young  girls,  and  I  felt  that  not '  all  the 
wealth  of  the  Indies  could  tempt  me  to  fill  the  post  that  that 
rider  did.  Toward  the  other  actors  I  was  more  lenient,  think 
ing  that  if  ever  I  joined  the  circus,  I  should  surely  be  the 
clown,  whose  witty  speeches  amused  me  greatly,  for  I  did  not 
then  know  that  they  were  all  made  up  beforehand,  and  that 
what  he  said  to  us  to-day  he  would  say  to  others  on  the  mor 
row.  Mademoiselle  Glaraine  was  just  finishing  up  her  per 
formance  by  riding  around  the  circle  without  other  support 
than  the  poising  of  one  foot  on  a  man's  shoulder,  when  who 
Bhould  appear  but  our  father  ! 

He  had  missed  Will  and  Charlie  from  family  prayers,  and 
had  traced  them  as  far  as  the  pavilion,  where  the  fee-receiver 
demanded  a  quarter  ere  he  \VDuld  allow  him  to  enter.  It  was 
in  vain  that  father  tried  to  explain  matters,  saying,  "  he  never 
attended  a  circus  in  his  life,  and  what  was"  more,  never  should; 
he'd  only  come  for  two  boys  who  had  run  away." 

The  door-keeper  was  incorrigible.  "  He'd  seen  just  as 
honest-looking  men,"  he  said,  "  who  were  the  greatest  cheats 
in  the  world,  and  if  father  wanted  to  go  in,  he  could  do  so  by 
paying  the  usual^fee;  if  not,  he  must  budge." 

Finding  there  was  no  alternative,  father  yielded,  and  then 
made  his  way  into  the  tent,  scanning  with  his  keen  gray  eyes 


56  MEADOW    SHOOK. 

the  sea  of  faces  until  he  singled  out  Charlie,  who  WAS  so  al> 
sorbed  in  stamping  and  hallooing  at  Mademoiselle  Glaraine'a 
leaping  through  a  hoop,  that  he  never  dreamed  of  father's 
presence  until  a  rough  hand  was  laid  upon  his  shoulder,  and  a 
stern  voice  demanded  of  him  why  he  was  there? 
Perfectly  thunder-struck,  Charlie  started  to  his  feet  with  the 

'exclamation  of  "  Je-ru-sa-lem  !"  but  before  he  could  make 
any  explanation,  father  discovered  Lizzie  and  me.  'Twas  the 
first  suspicion  he  had  of  our  being  there,  and  now,  when  he 
saw  us,  he  turned  pale,  and  reeled  as  if  smitten  by  a  heavy 
blow.  Had  he  felled  me  to  the  earth  it  would  have  hurt  me 
less  than  did  the  expression  of  his  face  and  the  tones  of  his 
voice,  as  he  said,  "  You,  too,  Rosa!  I  never  thought  you 
would  thus  deceive  me/' 

I  began  to  cry  aloud;  so  did  Lizzie,  and  in  this  way  we  made 
our  exit  from  the  circus,  followed  by  Charlie,  John,  and  Will 
— -the  latter  of  whom,  the  moment  we  were  in  the  open  air, 
began  to  take  the  blame  all  to  himself,  saying,  as  was  very 
true,  that  we  never  would  have  thought  of  going  but  for  him, 
and  suggesting  that  he  alone  should  be  punished,  as  he  was 
the  one  most  in  fault.  I  thought  this  was  very  magnanimous 
in  Will,  and  I  looked  up  in  father's  face  to  see  how  it  affected 
him;  but  the  moonlight  was  obscure,  and  I  could  discover 
nothing,  though  the  hand  that  held  mine  trembled  violently. 
I  presume  he  thought  that  in  this  case  corporal  punishment 
would  be  of  no  avail,  for  we  received  none,  but  in  various 
ways  were  we  made  to  feel  that  we  had  lost  the  confidence  of 
the  family.  For  four  long  weeks  we  were  each  night  locked 
in  our  rooms  while  for  the  same  length  of  time  we  were  kept 
from  school,  Lizzie  and  I  reciting  our  lessons  to  our  mother, 
while  Will,  Charlie,  and  John,  to  use  their  own  words, 

""  worked  from  morning  until  night,  like  niggers/' 

/    But  the  worst  part  of  it  all  was  the  temporary  disgrace 
which  our  act  of  disobedience  brought  upon  father.     A  half 
drunken  fellow,  who  saw  him  enter  the  tent,  and  who  knew 

\;hat  we  were  there,  hurried  away  to  the  village  with  the 
startling  intelligence  that  "  Deacon  Lee  and  all  his  family 
were  at  the  circus." 

The  news  spread  like  wildfire,  gathering  strength  in  its 
progress,  until  by  the  time  it  reached  us  it  was  a  current  re 
port  that  not  only  was  father  at  the  circus,  but  grandma  too! 
This  was  more  than  the  old  lady  could  bear.  Sixty-nine  years 
had  she  lived  without  ever  having  had  a  word  breathed  against 
her  morals,  and  now,  just  as  her  life's  sun  was  setting,  to 
have  such  a  thing  laid  tojier  charge  was  too  much,  and  she 


MEADOW    BROOK*  37 

actually  worried  herself  into  a  fever  which  confined  ker  to  the 
house  for  several  weeks. 

After  this  adventure  it  became  a  serious  question  in  father's 
mind  as  to  what  he  should  do  with  Will,  who  kept  our  hereto 
fore  quiet  household  in  a  state  of  perpetual  excitement. 
Nothing  seemed  to  have  the  least  effect  upon  him  save  the 
mention  of  his  mother,  and  that  for  the  time  being  would 
subdue  him;  but  when  temptation  came,  he  invariably  yield 
ed,  and  Charlie,  who  was  an  apt  scholar,  was  pretty  sure  to 
follow  where  his  wild,  dashing  cousin  led.  There  was  scarce 
ly  any  boyish  vice  to  which  Will  was  not  more  or  less  addict  ' 
ed,  and  "  Deacon  Lee's  sons,"  who  had  often  been  held  up  as 
patterns  for  their  companions,  began  soon  to  prove  the  old 
adage  true,  that  "  evil  communications  corrupt  good  man 
ners." 

John  learned  to  handle  an  oath  quite  fluently,  while  Charlie 
was  one  Sunday  morning  discovered  playing  euchre  with  Will 
on  the  hay-loft,  where  they  kept  their  cards  hidden.  But  all 
this  was  nothing  compared  to  the  night  when  both  boys  were 
brought  home  so  intoxicated  that  neither  of  them  was  able  to 
stand  aloni;  or  speak!  They  had  been  to  a  "  raising,"  where 
the  brandy  bottle  circulated  freely,  Will,  as  a  matter  of 
course,  drinking  from  the  beginning.  Charlie,  however,  hesi 
tated  until  they  taunted  him  with  "  being  afraid  of  the  old 
deacon,"  daring  him  "to  drink  and  be  a  man."  Then  he 
yielded,  and  with  fiendish  pleasure  the  crowd  gathered  round, 
urging  him  on,  until  he  was  undeniably  drunk;  after  which 
they  chuckled  with  delight  as  they  wondered  what  the  "  blue 
Presbyterian  "  would  say.  We  were  sitting  down  to  supper 
when  they  brought  him  home,  and  the  moment  mother  saw 
him,  she  darted  forward,  exclaiming,  "  Is  he  dead?  Tell  me, 
is  my  boy  dead?" 

"  Yes,  dead — drunk/9  answered  the  man,  with  a  cold, 
ironical  sneer  at  her  distress. 

He  was  used  to  it,  for  of  five  noble  sons  who  once  called 
him  their  father,  four  slept  in  a  drunkard's  grave,  and  the 
fifth  had  far  better  have  been  there  than  the  wreck  he  was. 
My  father  had  risen  from  his  seat,  but  at  the  words  "  he  is 
drunk,"  he  dropped  upon  the  floor  as  if  scathed  with  the  ^ 
lightning's  stroke.  You  who  think  it  a  light  matter — the 
holding  of  the  wine-cup  to  the  lips  of  your  neighbor's  child — 
you  should  have  seen  my  father  that  night,  as  moan  after 
moan  of  anguish  came  from  his  pale  lips,  while  the  great  drops 
of  perspiration  stood  thickly  upon  his  forehead  and  about  his 
The  effect  ifc  imd  upon  him  was  terrible;  crushing 


38  MEADOW    BKOOK. 

him  to  the  earth,  and  weaving  in  among  his  hitherto  brown 
locks  more  than  one  thread  of  silver.  Once  when  Charlie 
was  with  me,  I  heard  him  in  the  barn,  praying  that  the  prom 
ise  of  a  covenant  God  might  be  remembered  toward  him,  and 
that  his  son  might  yet  be  saved.  Charlie's  feelings  were 
touched,  and  dropping  on  his  knees  at  my  side,  he  made  a  sol 
emn  vow  that  never  again  should  ardent  spirits  of  any  kind 
pass  his  lips;  and  God,  who  heard  that  vow  mingled  with  my 
father's  prayer,  registered  it  in  heaven,  and  from  that  day  to 
this,  amid  all  the  temptations  which  come  to  early  manhood, 
it  has  been  unbroken. 

Not  thus  easily  could  Will  be  reached.  His  was  the  sorrow 
of  a  day,  which  passed  away  with  the  coming  of  to-morrow's 
sun,  and  after  a  long  consultation,  it  was  decided  that  he 
should  go  to  sea,  and  the  next  merchantman  bound  for  the 
East  Indies,  which  sailed  from  Boston,  bore  on  its  deck,  as  a 
common  sailor,  our  cousin  Will-,  who  went  from  us  reluctant* 
ly,  for  to  him  there  was  naught  but  terror,  toil,  and  fear  in 
"  a  life  on  the  ocean  wave."  But  there  was  no  other  way  to 
save  him,  they  said,  and  so  with  bitter  grief  at  our  hearts,  we 
bid  adieu  to  the  wayward  boy,  praying  that  God  would  give 
the  winds  and  waves  charge  concerning  him,  and  that  no  dan 
ger  might  befall  him  when  afar  on  the  rolling  billows. 

CHAPTER  IV. 

THE   SCHOOL-MISTKESS. 

OF  the  many  thousand  individuals  destined  to  become  the 
purchasers  of  a  copy  of  this  work,  a  majority  have  undoubted 
ly  been,  or  are  still  teachers,  and  of  these  many  will  remem 
ber  the  time  when  they  fancied  that  to  be  invested  with  the 
dignity  of  a  teacher  was  to  secure  the  greatest  amount  of  hap 
piness  which  earth  can  bestow.  Almost  from  my  earliest  re 
membrance  it  had  been  the  one  great  subject  which  engrossed 
my  thoughts,  and  frequently,  when  strolling  down  the  shady 
hill-side  which  led  to  our  school-house,  have  I  fancied  myself 
the  teacher,  thinking  that  if  such  were  really  the  case,  my 
irst  act  should  be  the  chastisement  of  half  a  score  or  more 
boys  who  were  in  the  daily  habit  of  annoying  me  in  various 
ways.  Every  word  and  action  of  my  teacher,  too,  was  care 
fully  noted  and  laid  away  against  the  time  when  I  should 
meet  them,  and  which  came  much  sooner  than  I  anticipated; 
for  one  rainy  morning  when  Lizzie  and  I  were  playing  in  the 
garret,  I  overheard  my  .father  saying  there  was  a  chance  for 
Eos*  to  teach  school. 


MEADOW    BROOK.  39 

"What,  that  child!"  was  my  mother's  exclamation;  but 
ere  he  could  reply,  "  the  child  "  had  bounded  down  two  pairs 
of  stairs,  and  stood  at  his  elbow,  asking,  "  Who  is  it — where 
is  it?  And  do  you  suppose  I  can  get  a  certificate?" 

This  last  idea  damped  my  ardor  somewhat,  for  horrible 
visions  came  up  before  me  of  the  "Abbreviations"  and 
*  Sounds  of  the  Vowels,"  in  both  of  which  I  was  rather  defi=> 
cient. 

"  You  teach  school!  You  look  like  it!"  said  my  sister 
Juliet.  "  Why,  in  less  than  three  days  you'd  be  teetering 
with  the  girls,  if  indeed  you  didn't  climb  trees  with  the  boys." 

This  climbing  was  undeniably  a  failing  of  mine,  there  being 
scarcely  a  tree  on  the  farm  on  whose  topmost  limbs  I  hadn't. 
at  some  time  or  other  been  perched;  but  I  was  older  now.  I 
was  thirteen  two  days  before,  and  so  I  reminded  Juliet,  at  the 
same .  time  begging  of  father  to  tell  me  all  about  it.  It  ap 
peared  that  he  had  that  day  met  with  a  Mr.  Randall,  the 
trustee  of  Pine  District,  who  was  in  quest  of  a  teacher.  After- 
learning  that  the  school  was  small,  father  ventured  to  propose 
me,  who,  he  said,  "  was  crazy  to  keep  school." 

"  A  dollar  a  week  is  the  most  we  can  give  her,"  returned 
Mr.  Randall;  "  and  if  you'll  take  up  with  that,  mebby  we'll 
try  her.  New  beginners  sometimes  do  the  best." 

So  it  was  arranged  that  I  was  to  teach  fifteen  weeks  for 
four  dollars  per  month,  and  board  round  at  that!  Boarding 
round!  How  many  reminiscences  do  these  two  words  recall 
to  those  who,  like  myself,  have  tried  it,  and  who  know  that  it 
has  a  variety  of  significations.  That  sometimes  it  is  only  an 
other  name  for  sleeping  with  every  child  in  the  family  where 
your  home  for  one  week  may  chance  to  be — for  how  can  you 
be  insensible  to  the  oft-repeated  whisper,  "  /  shall  sleep  with 
her  to-night;  ma  said  I  might;"  and  of  "  ma's  "  audible  an 
swer,  "  Perhaps,  sis,  she  don't  want  you  to." 

If  "  sis  "  is  a  clean,  chubby-looking  little  creature,  you  do 
want  her;  but  if,  as  it  not  linfrequently  happens,  she  is  just 
the  opposite —  I  draw  a  blank  which  almost  every  country 
teacher  in  the  land  can  fill,  merely  saying  that  there  is  no 
alternative.  We  have  got  the  district  to  please,  and  we  must 
do  it  some  way  or  other. 

Again,  "  boarding  round  "  means  a  quiet,  cozy  spot,  where 
everything  is  so  pleasant  and  cheerful,  where  the  words  are  so1 
kind  and  the  smile  of  welcome  so  sweet,  that  you  feel  at  once 
at  home,  and  wish,  oh,  how  you  do  wish,  you  could  stay  there 
all  the  summer  long;  but  it  can  not  be;  the  time  of  you' 
allotted  sojourn  passes  away,  and  then  with  a  sigh,  if  indee* 


40  MEAPOW    BROOK, 


you  can  repress  a  tear,  you  gather  up  your  combs,  brushes, 
and  little  piece  of  embroidery,  to  which  some  spiteful  woman 
has  said  "you  devote  more  time  than  to  your  school,"  and 
putting  them  in  your  satchel,  depart  for  another  home,  some 
times  as  pleasant  as  the  one  you  are  leaving,  sometimes  not. 

But  of  these  annoyances  L  knew  nothing;  and  when  Mr. 
Randall  came  to  see  me,  calling  me  Miss  Lee,  and  when  I 
was  really  engaged,  my  happiness  was  complete.  In  a  coun 
try  neighborhood  every  item  of  news,  however  slight,  spreads 
rapidly,  and  the  fact  that  I  was  to  teach  soon  became  gener 
ally  known,  creating  quite  a  sensation,  and  operating  differ 
ently  upon  different  natures.  One  old  gentleman,  who,  times 
innumerable,  had  held  me  on  his  knee,  feeding  my  vanity  with 
flattery,  and  my  stomach  with  sweetmeats,  was  quite  as  much 
delighted  as  I,  declaring  "  he  always  knew  I  was  destined  to 
make  something  great/' 

Dear  old  man!  When  the  snows  of  last  winter  were  high 
piled  upon  the  earth,  they  dug  for  him  a  grave  in  the  frozen 
ground,  and  in  the  world  where  now  he  lives,  he  will  not 
know,  perhaps,  that  I  shall  never  fulfill  his  prophecy. 

Aunt  Sally  Wright,  who,  besides  managing  her  own  affairs, 
kept  an  eye  on  her  neighbors',  and  who  looked  upon  me  as  a 
"pert,  forward  piece,"  gave  her  opinion  freely.  "What! 
That  young  one  keep  school!  Is  Deacon  Lee  crazy?  Ain't 
Rosa  stuck  up  enough  now?  But  never  mind;  you'll  see  she 
won't  keep  out  more'n  half  her  time,  if  she  does  that." 

Aunt  Sally  was  gifted  with  the  power  of  telling  fortunes  by 
means  of  tea-grounds,  and  I  have  always  fancied  she  read  that 
prediction  in  the  bottom  of  her  big  blue  cup,  for  how  could 
she  otherwise  have  known  what  actually  happened?  Ere  long 
the  news  reached  Pine  District,  creating  quite  an  excitement, 
the  older  people  declaring  "  they'd  never  send  to  a  little  girl," 
while  the  juvenile  portion  of  the  inhabitants  gave  a  con 
temptuous  whistle  or  so  in  honor  of  the  school-ma'am  elect. 
Mrs.  Captain  Thompson,  who  boasted  the  biggest  house, 
handsomest  carpet,  and  worst  boy  in  Pine  Hill,  was  wholly 
incredulous,  until  she  one  day  chanced  to  meet  with  Aunt 
Sally,  who  not  only  confirmed  it,  but  also  kindly  gave  her 
many  little  items  touching  my  character  as  a  "  wild,  romping 
minx,  who  was  no  more  qualified  for  a  teacher  than  for  the 
Queen  of  England,"  citing  as  proof  of  what  she  said  that  only 
fehe  year  before  she  had  seen  me  "  trying  to  ride  on  a  cow." 

Mrs.  Captain  Thompson,  who  was  blessed  with  an  over 
whelming  sense  of  propriety,  was  greatly  shocked,  saying 
*'•  she'd  always  thought  Mr.  Randall  knew  just  enough  to  hire 


SfEA&OW    BftOOS.  4 

&  child,'*  and  consoling  herself  with  the  remark  that  "  it  was 

not  at  all  probable  I'd  get  a  certificate." 

On  this  point  I  was  myself  a  little  fearful.  True,  I  had 
been  "  sent  away  "  to  school,  and  had  been  flattered  into  the 
belief  that  I  possessed  far  more  book  knowledge  than  I  did; 
but  this  I  knew  would  avail  me  nothing  with  the  formidable 
^committee  who  held  my  destiny  in  their  hands.  They  were 
unbiased  in  my  favor,  and  had  probably  never  heard  of  me? 
as  they  lived  in  an  adjoining  town.  But  "  where  there's  a 
will  there's  a  way,"  and  determining  not  to  fail,  I  ransacked 
the  cupboard,  where  our  school  books*  were  kept,  bringing 
thence  Olney's  Geography,  Colburn's  Arithmetic,  History  of 
the  United  States,  grammars,  eta,  ali  of  which  were  for  days 
iny  constant  companions,  and  I  even  slept  wi^h  one  or  more 
of  them  under  my  pillow,  so  that  with  the  earliest  dawn  I 
could  study.  Whole  pages  of  geography  were  committed  to 
memory,  all  the  hardest  problems  in  Colburn  were  solved,  a 
dozen  or  more  of  compound  relatives  were  parsed  and  dis 
posed  of,  to  my  satisfaction  at  least,  and  I  was  just  beginning 
to  feel  strong  in  my  own  abilities,  when  one  Monday  morning- 
news  was  brought  us  that  at  three  o'clock  that  afternoop  ali 

who  were  intending  to  teach  in  the  town  of  S were  to 

meet  at  the  house  of  the  Reverend  Mr.  Parks,  then  and  there 
to  be  questioned  of  what  they  knew  and  what  didn't 

know.  This  last  referred  to  me — for  now  that  trie  dreaded 
day  had  come,  I  felt  that  every  idea  had  suddenly  left  me, 
while,  to  increase  my  embarrassment,  I  was  further  informed 
that  as  there  had  the  year  previous  been  some  trouble  among 
the  school  inspectors,  each  of  whom  fancied  that  the  other  did 
not  take  his  share  of  the  work,  the  town  had  this  year  thought 
to  obviate  the  difficulty  by  electing  nine! 

One  was  bad  enough;  but  at  the  thought  of  nine  men  in 
spectacles  my  heart  sunk  within  me,  and  it  was  some  time  ere 
I  could  be  persuaded  to  make  the  trial.  In  the  midst  of  our 
trouble,  Aunt  Sally,  whose  clothes  on  Monday  morning  were 
always  swinging  on  the  line  before  daylight,  and  who  usually 
spent  the  afternoon  of  that  day  visiting,  came  in,  and  after 
learning  what  was  the  cause  oi  my  flushed  cheeks  said,  by  way 
of  comforting  me,  that  "  she  didn't  wonder  an  atom  if  I  felt 
streaked,  for  'twan't  no  ways  likely  I'd  pass!" 

This  roused  my  pride,  and  with  the  mental  comment  ths.i; 
*'  I'd  pass  for  ali  her,"  I  got  myself  in  readiness,  Juliet  lend 
ing  me  her  green  veil,  and  Anna  her  fine  pocket-handker 
chief,  while  mother's  soft  warm  shawl  was  wrapped  lovingly 
about  me,  and  Lizzie  slippedjnto  my  pocket  the  Multiplied 


42  3&EADOW   BRCOfc. 

tion  Table,  which  she  thought  I  might  manage  to  look  at  sly< 

Jly  in  case  of  an  emergency.  On  our  way  father  commenced 
the  examination  by  asking  me  the  lengtn  of  the  Mississippi, 
but  I  didn't  know  as  it  had  a  length,  and  in  despair  he  gave 
up  his  questioning. 

Oh,  how  somber  and  dreary  seemed  the  little  parlor  int< 
which  we  were  ushered  by  the  servant,  who,  on  learning  01 
business,  looked  rather  doubtfully  at  me,  as  much  as  to  sa 
"  You  surely  can't  be  one  of  them?"  In  a  short  time  tht 
parlor  was  filled,  the  entire  nine  being  there.  Not  one  was 
absent,  and  in  a  row  directly  opposite,  they  sat,  some  tipped 
back  in  a  lounging  attitude,  some  cutting  their  finger-nails 
with  their  penknives,  while  others  sat  up  stiff  and  stern,  the 
whole  presenting  a  most  formidable  appearance.  There  were 
eight  or  ten  candidates  present,  and,  unfortunately  for  me,  I 
was  seated  at  what  I  called  the  foot  of  the  class.  It  seemed 
that  the  most  of  them  were  acquainted,  and  as  I  was  a/most 
the  only  stranger  present,  it  was  but  natural  that  they  should 
look  at  me  rather  more  than  I  liked.  My  pantalets  evidently 
attracted  their  attention,  but  by  dint  of  drawing  up  my  feet 
and  pushing  down  my  dress  I  hoped  to  hide  my  shortcomings. 

When,  at  last,  the  examination  commenced,  I  found,  to  my 
great  delight,  that  geography  was  'the  subject  introduced, 
and  my  heart  beat  high,  for  I  thought  of  the  pages  I  could  re 
peat  and  ardently  longed  for  a  chance  to  display!  Unfortu 
nately  for  me,  they  merely  questioned  us  from  the  map,  and 
breathlessly  I  awaited  my  turn.  At  length  the  young  lady 
who  sat  next  to  me  was  asked,  "  What  two  rivers  unite  and 
form  the  Ohio?"  I  looked  at  her  sideways.  The  bloom 
deepened  on  her  cheek,  and  I  was  sure  she  had  forgotten 
Involuntarily  I  felt  tempted  to  tell  her,  but  did  not,  and  Mr. 
Parks,  looking  inquiringly  at  me,  said,  "Perhaps  the  next 
one  can.  Ahem!"  j. 

He  caught  sight  of  my  offending  pantalets,  and  thinking* 
me  some  child  who  had  come  with  her  sister,  was  about  to 
pass  me  by.  But  I  was  not  to  be  slighted  in  that  way,  par 
ticularly  when  I  knew  the  answer;  so,  with  the  air  of  one 
who,  always  at  the  foot,  accidentally  spells  a  word  right  and 
starts  for  the  head,  I  spoke  out  loudly  and  distinctly  "  Alle- 
ghany  and  Monongahela,"  glancing  at  my  father  just  in  time 
to  catch  a  nod  of  encouragement. 

4  The  Nine  "  were  taken  by  surprise,  and  instantly  three 
pairs  of  eyes  with  glasses  and  six  pairs  without  glasses  were 
brought  to  bear  upon  me.  For  reasons  best  known  to  them 
selves,  they  asked  me  a  great  variety  of  Questions,  all  G£ 


MEADOW    BROOK.  43 

which  1  answered  correctly,  I  believe — at  least,  they  made  no 
comment,  pud  were  evidently  vastly  amused  with  their  new 
spec'jnen,  asking  me  how  old  I  was,  and  exchanging  smiles  at 
my  reply,  "  Thirteen,  four  weeks  ago  to-day/'  One  of  my 
fellow-teachers,  who  sat  near  me,  whispered  to  her  next  neigh 
bor,  "  She's  older  than  that,  I  know;"  for  which  remark  I've 
lever  quite  forgiven  her.  Arithmetic  was  the  last  branch  :-» 
Produced,  and  as  mathematics  was  rather  my  forte,  I  had  no^ 
no  fears  of  failing— <but  I  did!  A  question  in  decimals  puz-1 
uled  me,  and  coloring  to  my  temples,  I  replied,  "  I  don't 
know,"  while  two  undeniable  tears  dropped  into  my  lap. 

"  Never  mind,  sis,"  said  on«  of  the  nine.  "  You  know 
/Most  everything  else,  and  have  done  bravely." 

I  was  as  sure  of  my  certificate  then  as  I  was  fifteen  minutes 
afterward,  when  a  little  slip  of  paper  was  given  me,  declaring 
me  competent  to  teach  a  common  school.  I  thought  it  was 
all  over,  and  was  adjusting  mother's  shawl  and  tying  on 
Juliet's  veil,  when  they  asked  me  to  write  something,  that 
they  might  see  a  specimen  of  my  penmanship.  Taking  the 
pen,  I  dashed  off  with  a  flourish  "  Rosa  Lee,"  at  which  I 
thought  they  peered  more  curiously  than  need  be;  and  one  of 
*hem — Doctor  Clayton,  a  young  man,  and  a  handsome  one, 
too — said  something  about  its  being  "very  poetical."  He 
hadn't  seen  the  negro  song  then. 

The  shadows  of  evening  had  long  since  fallen  when  we 
stopped  at  our  door,  where  we  found  mother  anxiously  await 
ing  for  us.  Very  wistfully  she  looked  in  my  face  ere  she 
asked  the  important  question. 

"  Yes,  I've  got  one,"  said  I,  bounding  from  the  buggy, 
"  and  I'd  like  to  be  examined  every  day,  it's  such  fun." 

".Didn't  you  miss  a  word?"  asked  Juliet. 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  glad!"  cried  Lizzie. 

"  Feel  big,  don't  you?"  suggested  Charlie,  while  Anna  in 
quired  "  if  I'd  lost  her  pocket-handkerchief  I" 

CHAPTER  V. 

PINE   HILL. 

ERE  long,  exaggerated  rumors  reached  Meadow  Brook  of 
the  very  creditable  manner  in  which  I  had  acquitted  myself 
at  the  examination,  whereupon  Aunt  Sally  Wright  was  quite 
taken  aback.  Soon  rallying,  however,  she  had  recourse  to 
her  second  prediction,  which  was  that  "  I  should  not  teach 
more  than  half  the  summer  out."  Perhaps  I  wrong  the  old 
ladv,  but  I  can  not  helD  thinking. that  the  ill-natured  stories 


44  MEADOW    BROOk. 

concerning  myself,  which  she  set  afloat  at  Pine  Hill,  were  itt 
a  great  measure  the  cause  of  her  prophecy  being  fulfilled. 
Never  before,  to  my  knowledge,  had  she  visited  at  Captain 
Thompson's,  but  now  she  spent  an  entire  day  there,  bringing 
back  to  us  the  intelligence  that  John  Thompson,  a  boy  just 
one  year  my  senior,  was  going  to  stay  at  home  that  summer, 
•fas  "  Miss  Cap'n  Thompson  hadn't  no  idee  I  could  teach  him." 

Added  to  this  was  the  comforting  assurance  that  "  Cap'n 
Thompson  was  hoppin'  mad  because  Mr.  Randall  had  hired 
me  in  preference  to  his  sister  Dell,  who  had  herself  applied 
for  the  school."  This,  as  I  afterward  learned,  was  the  secret 
of  the  dislike  which,  from  the  first,  the  Thompsons  enter 
tained  for  me.  They  had  no  daughter,  but  the  captain's  half- 
sister  Dell  had  lived  with  him  ever  since  his  marriage,  and 
between  her  and  their  hopeful  son  John  the  affections  of  him 
self  and  wife  were  nearly  equally  divided. 

Dell  Thompson  was  a  proud,  overbearing  girl,  about  eight 
een  years  of  age,  who  esteemed  herself  far  better  than  her 
neighbors,  with  whom  she  seldom  associated,  her  acquaint 
ances  living  mostly  at  what  was  called  "  the  center  "  of  the 
town.  It  seems  that  she  had  applied  for  the  summer  school, 
but  remembering  that  she  had  once  called  him  a  "  country 
clown  and  his  wife  ignorant  and  vulgar,"  Mr,  Randall  had 
refused  her  and  accepted  me.  Notwithstanding  that  the  peo 
ple  of  Pine  Hill  generally  disliked  the  Thompsons,  there  was 
among  them  a  feeling  of  dissatisfaction  when  it  became 
known  that  I  was  preferred  to  Dell,  who,  they  thought,  would 
have  given  tone  and  character  to  the  school,  for  "  it  wasn't 
eveiy  i  big  b*ug  '  who  would  stoop  to  teach." 

Of  this  state  of  affairs  I  was  fortunately  ignorant,  and  never 
do  I  remember  a  happier  morning  than  that  on  which  I  first 
took  upon  myself  the  responsibilities  of  a  teacher.  By  sunrise 
tbhe  little  hair  trunk,  which  grandma  lent  me,  was  packed  and 
stood  waiting  on  the  doorstep,  where  I  had  carried  it,  think 
ing  thus  to  accelerate  the  movements  of  my  father,  who  did 
not  seem  to  be  in  any  particular  hurry,  telling  me  "  he'd  no 
idea  that  school  would  be  commenced  before  we  got  there!" 
Grandma  had  suggested  the  propriety  of  letting  down  my 
dresses — a  movement  which  I  warmly  seconded — but  mother 
said  "  No,"  she  didn't  like  to  see  little  girls  dressed  like 
growjvup  women;"  so,  in  my  new  plaid  gingham  and  white 
pantalets,  I  waited  impatiently  until  the  clock  struck  seven, 
at  which  time  father  announced  himself  ready. 

"  When  will  you  come  home?"  asked  mother,  as  she  fol 
lowed  me  to  the  gate. 


MEADOW    BROOK,  45 

three  weeks,"  was  my  reply,  as  I  bounded  into  the 
buggy,  which  soon  moved  away. 

Pine  Hill  is  not  at  all  remarkable  for  its  beautiful  scenery, 
and  as  old  Sorrel  trotted  leisurely  along,  down  one  steep  hill 
and  up  another,  through  a  haunted  swamp,  where  a  man  had 
once,  to  his  great  terror,  seen  his  departed  wife,  and  over  a 
piece  of  road  where  the  little  grassy  ridges  said,  as  plain  as 
grassy  ridges  could  say,  that  the  travelers  there  were  few  and 
far  between,  my  spirits  lowered  a  little.  But,  anon,  the  pros*" 
pect  brightened,  and  in  the  distance  we  saw  the  white  walls  of 
fcaptain  Thompson's  residence  gleaming  through  the  mass  of 
evergreens  which  surrounded  it.  This,  however,  soon  disap 
peared,  and  for  a  mile  or  more  my  eye  met  with  nothing  save 
white  birches,  gray  rocks,  green  ferns,  and  blackberry  bushes, 
until  suddenly  turning  a  corner,  we  came  to  a  halt  before  one 
of  those  slanting-roofed  houses  so  common  in  New  England. 
It  was  the  home  of  Mr.  Randall,  and  it  was  there  that  I  was 
to  board  the  first  week.  In  the  door-way,  eating  bread  and 
molasses,  were  his  three  children,  who,  the  moment  they  saw 
us,  set  up  a  shout  of  "  somebody's  come.  I  guess  it's  the 
school-ma'am!"  and  straightway  they  took  to  their  heels  as  if 
fleeing  from  the  presence  of  a  tigress. 

After  a  moment  the  largest  of  them  ventured  to  return, 
and  his  example  was  soon  followed  by  the  other  two,  the 
younger  of  whom,  after  eying  me  askance,  lisped  out,  "  Don 
Thompson  thays  he  ain't  afraid  of  you;  he  can  lick  you  like 
dunder!" 

This  was  a  pleasant  commencement,  but  I  smiled  down 
upon  the  little  boy,  patting  his  curly  head,  while  father  in 
quired  for  Mrs.  Randall,  who,  we  learned,  was  sweeping  the 
school-house.  Leaving  the  hair  trunk,  which  was  used  by  the 
children  for  a  hoise  ere  we  left  the  yard,  we  again  set  for 
ward,  and  soon  reached  our  place  of  destination,  which,  with 
out  shade  tree  or  ornament  of  any  kind,  stood  half-way  up  a 
long,  sunny  hill,  commanding  a  view  of  nothing  save  the 
Weather-cock  of  Captain  Thompson's  barn,  which  was  visible 
across  the  orchard  opposite.  We  found  Mrs.  Randall  envel-' 
oped  in  a  cloud  of  dust,  her  sleeves  rolled  up,  aod  her  head 
covered  by  a  black  silk  handkerchief. 

'  The  room  wasn't  fit  for  the  pigs,"  she  said,  "  and  ought 
to  have  been  cleaned,  but  somehow  nobody  took  any  interest 
in  school  this  summer,  and  I'd  have  to  make  it  answer." 

I  didn't  care  particularly  for  the  room,  which,  in  truth, 
was  dirty  and  disagreeable  enough,  but  the  words  "  nobody 
took  any  interest  this  summer,"  affected  me  unpleasantly, 


43  MEADOW    BEOOKo 

for  in  them  *.  saw  a  dim  foreshadowing  of  all  luftt  ensued* 
Father,  who  was  in  a  hurry,  soon  left  me,  bidding  me  "  be  a 
good  girl,  and  not  get  to  romping  with  the  scholars."  From 
the  window  I  watched  him  until  he  disappeared  over  the  sandv 
hill,  half  wishing,  though  I  would  not  then  confess  it,  that  I 
and  the  little  trunk  were  with  him.  I  was  roused  from  nry 
reverie  by  Mrs.  Randall,  who,  for  some  time,  had  been  look' 
ing  inquisitively  at  me,  and  who  now  said,  "  Ain't  you  but 
thirteen?" 

"  IsTo,  rna'am,"  I  answered. 

"  Waal,"  she  returned,  "  it  beats % all  how  much  older  you 
look.  I  snould  s'pose  you  was  full  sixteen,  if  not  more.  But 
it's  all  in  your  favor,  and  I  guess  you'll  be  more  likely  to  suit 
the  deestrict,  though  they're  afraid  you  haven't  any  govern 
ment,  and  they're  terribly  hard  to  suit.  So,  if  I  was  you," 
she  continued,  "  I'd  hold  a  pretty  tight  rein  at  first.  I  give 
you  full  liberty  to  whip  my  young  ones  if  they  don't  behave. 
They  know  better  than  to  complain  at  home." 

Involuntarily  I  glanced  at  the  clump  of  alders  which  grew 
near  the  house,  and  if  they  were  somewhat  diminished  ere  my 
reign  was  over,  the  "  deestrict "  owed  it  to  Mrs.  Randall's 
suggestion.  After  sitting  awhile,  she  arose  to  go,  telling  me 
"  she  should  expect  me  at  night,"  and  then  I  was  alone.  I 
looked  at  my  watch;  it  was  half  past  eight,  and  not  a  scholar 
yet.  This  was  widely  different  from  Meadow  Brook,  where, 
by  seven,  the  house  was  generally  filled  with  children,  halloo 
ing,  quarreling  over  seats,  and  watching  eagerly  for  the  first 
sight  of  "the  new  school-ma'am."  Here  the  tables  were 
turned,  and  "the  school-ma'am"  was  watching  for  her 
scholars! 

Suddenly  a  large  bumble-bee  came  buzzing  in,  and  alighted 
on  a  window  opposite.  Like  Sir  Thomas  the  Good,  in  the 
Ingoldsby  Legends,  I  have  a  passion  for  capturing  insects, 
especially  whitefaced  bumble-bees,  and  now  I  felt  strongly 
inclined  to  mount  the  desks  in  pursuit  of  the  intruder;  but 
the  thought  "What  if  the  scholars  should  detect  me?"  pre 
vented,  and,  to  this  day,  I  have  never  known  whether  that 
bumble-bee  had  a  white  face  or  belonged  to  the  class  of  colored 
brethren!  Ten  minutes  of  nine,  and  I  began  to  grow  fidgety. 
I  should  have  been  more  so  had  I  known  how  much  is  some 
times  said  about  teachers  not  keeping  their  hours.  Five  min 
utes  of  nine,  and  round  the  corner  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  ap 
peared  a  group  of  children,  while  from  another  direction  came 
others,  shouting  for  those  in  advance  to  "  wait,"  which  they 
did,  and  the  whole  entered  the  house  together.  A  few  of  the 


MEADOW    BKOOK. 

girls  made  a  slight  obeisance,  while  the  boys  laughed  and 
throwing  down  their  books  in  a  very  consequential  manner, 
looked  distrustfully  at  me.  My  age  had  preceded  me,  and  in 
many  of  these  childish  hearts  there  was  already  a  spirit  of  re 
bellion. 

Here  I  would  speak  against  the  impropriety  of  discussing  a 
teacher's  faults  in  the  presence  of  pupils,  who  will  discover 
them  soon  enough.  Many  a  teacher  starts  disadvantageous!;, 
because  of  some  idle  tale,  which  may  or  may  not  be  true,  but 
which,  borne  on  the  wings  of  gossip,  reaches  its  place  of  des 
tination,  and  is  there  thoughtlessly  canvassed  in  the  hearing 
of  children,  who  thus  become  prejudiced  against  a  person  they 
have  never  seen,  and  whom  they  otherwise  might  have  liked. 
In  my  case,  the  fault  was.  my  age,  which  had  evidently  been 
discussed  in  the  neighborhood;  ioi,  on  opening  my  desk,  I 
found  inscribed  upon  the  lid,  in  a  bold  school-boy  style,  "  Rosa 
Lee,  aged  13,"  to  which  was  appended,  in  a  more  delicate 
hand,  ' '  Ancient — very ! ' ' 

Taking  my  India-rubbor,  I  erased  it  while  my  scholars  were 
settling  the  matter  of  seats,  which,  strange  to  say,  they  did 
without  disputing.  Then  there  ensued  a  perfect  silence,  and 
the  eyes  of  all  present  turned  inquiringly  upon  me,  while,  with 
sundry  nourishes  with  my  silver  pencil,  I  proceeded  to  take 
down  upon  a  big  sheet  of  foolscap  the  names,  ages,  and  "  what 
studies  do  you  intend  to  pursue?"  of  my  pupils.  After  much 
talking  and  arranging,  the  school  was  organized;  but  the  first 
morning  dragged  heavily,  and  when  twelve  o'clock  came,  and 
I  drew  from  my  satchel  the  nice  ginger-snaps  which  my  moth 
er  had  made,  the  sight  of  them,  or  the  taste,  or  something 
else,  choked  me  so  much  that  I  was  obliged  to  wink  hard,  and 
count  the  rows  of  trees  in  the  orchard  opposite  twice,  ere  I 
could  answer  the  question  addressed  to  me  by  one  of  the  lit- 
^tle  girls. 

In  the  rear  of  the  house  was  a  long  strip  of  dense  woods, 
and  wishing  to  be  alone  and  out  of  sight  of  the  sports  in  which 
I  felt  I  must  not  join,  I  took  my  bonnet  and  wandered 
thither.  Seating  myself  upon  a  mossy  log,  I  tried  to  fancy 
.  that  I  was  at  home  beneath  the  dear  old  grape-vine,  the  faint 
est  rustle  of  whose  broad  green  leaves  would,  at  that  moment, 
have  been  to  me  like  the  sweetest,  music.  But  it  could  riot 
be.  I  was  a  school -mistress.  Miss  Lee  they  called  me,  and 
on  my  brow  the  shadows  of  life  were  thus  early  making  their 
impress.  Slowly  to  me  dragged  the  hour  which  always  before 
had  been  so  short,  and  when  at  last  I  took  mv  way  back  to 


48  MEADOW    BfcOOK. 

Often  since,  when  I  have  looked  upon  young  teachers  hasten 
ing  to  their  task,  I've  pitied  them,  for  I  knew  full  well  how 
long  and  wearisome  would  be  their  first  day's  labor. 

As  I  approached  the  school-house  I  saw  that  something  was 
the  matter,  for  the  scholars  were  greatly  excited,  and  with 
voices  raised  to  the  highest  pitch,  were  discussing  something 
"jof  importance.  Thinking  that  my  presence  would  perhaps 
restrain  them  from  such  noisy  demonstrations,  I  hastened -for 
ward;  but  the  babel  rather  increased  than  diminished,  and  it 
was  with  difficulty  that  I  could  learn  the  cause  of  the  commo 
tion.  George  Randall  was  crying,  while  a  little  apart  from 
him  stood  two  boys,  one  of  them  apparently  fourteen  and  the 
other  twelve.  They  were  strangers  to  me,  and  instinctively  I 
felt  that  they  were  in  some  way  connected  with  the  disturb 
ance,  and  that  the  larger  and  more  important  looking  was 
John  Thompson — a  surmise  which  proved  to  be  correct.  • 

It  seemed  that  Isaac  Ross,  one  of  the  new-comers,  had  some 
weeks  before  selected  for  himself  a  corner  seat,  which,  as  he 
was  not  present  in  the  morning,  had  been  taken  by  George 
Randall,  who  knew  nothing  of  Isaac's  intentions,  and  who 
now  refused  to  give  it  up.  A  fight  was  the  result,  the  most 
of  the  scholars  taking  sides  with  George,  while  Isaac  was  urged 
on  and  encouraged  by  John  Thompson,  who,  though  not  a 
pupil,  had  come  up  "  to  see  how  he  liked  the  new  school- 
ma'am."  As  a  matter  of  course,  an  appeal  was  made  to  me, 
to  know  "  if  George  hadn't  the  best  right  to  the  seat." 

Perhaps  I  was  wrong;  but  I  decided  that  he  had,  at  the 
same  time  asking  Isaac  "  if  he  were  coming  to  school." 

"'I  ain't  goin'  to  do  anything  else,"  said  he,  glancing  to 
ward  John,  who,  with  a  wicked  leer  at  me,  knocked  off  one 
of  the  little  boys'  hats  and  threw  it  up  in  the  air. 

What  would  have  ensued  next  1  do  not  know,  for  at  that 
moment  Captain  Thompson  rode  round  the  corner  and  called 
to  his  son,  who,  with  mock  deference,  bowed  politely  to  me 
and  walked  away.  Disagreeable  as  Isaac  Ross  appeared  in  the 
presence  of  John  Thompson,  I  found  that  when  left  to  him 
self  he  was  quite  a  different  boy;  and  though  he  at  first  mani 
fested  some  reluctance  to  taking  another  seat,  he  at  last  yield 
ed  the  point,  and  for  the  remainder  of  the  day  conducted  him 
self  with  perfect  propriety. 

On  the  whole,  the  afternoon  passed  away  rather  pleasantly, 
and  at  night,  when  school  was  out,  I  started  for  my  boarding^ 
place  quite  contented  with  teachers  generally  and  myself  in 
particular.  In  passing  the  different  houses  which  stood  upon 
the  road-side,  I  demeaned  mvself  with  the  utmost  diarnitv, 


MEADOW    BROChx.  49 

swinging  my  short  dress  from  side  to  side  in  imitation  of  a 
Boston  lady  who  had  once  taught  in  our  district,  and  whose 
manner  of  walking  I  greatly  admired.  From  the  window  of 
Captain  Thompson's  dwelling  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  two 
faces,  which  were  hastily  withdrawn,  but  I  felt  sure  that  from 
behind  the  curtains  they  were  scanning  my  appearance,  and  I 
remember  lowering  my  parasol  a  little,  just  to  tantalize  them. 
But  when  at  last  I  was  over  the  hill  and  out  of  sight,  oh,  how 
glad  I  was  to  be  Rosa  Lee  again,  free  to  pluck  the  sweet  wild 
flowers,  to  watch  the  little  fishes  in  the  running  brook,  orf 
even  to  chase  a  white-faced  bumble-bee  if  I  liked.  ( 

About  fifty  rods  from  Mr.  Randall's  stands  one  of  those 
old-fashioned  gable-roofed  houses  so  common  in  some  parts 
of  New  England,  and  here,  at  the  time  of  which  I  am  speak 
ing,  lived  Mrs.  Ross,  the  mother  of  Isaac — or  Ike,  as  he  was 
familiarly  called.  I  had  never  met  the  lady;  but  as  I  ap 
proached  the  house  and  saw  a  tall,  square-shouldered  woman 
leaning  on  the  gate,  I  naturally  thought  that  it  might  be  she; 
and  on  this  point  I  was  not  long  left  in  doubt,  for  the  mo 
merit  I  came  within  speaking  distance,  she  called  out: 

"  How  dy'  do,  Miss  Lee — I  s'pose  'tis?  You  pretty  well? 
I'm  Miss  Ross,  Isick's  mother.  He  telled  me  that  he  had 
some  fuss  about  a  seat  that  he  picked  out  more'n  a  month  ago, 
and  thinks  he  orto  have.  I  don't  never  calkerlate  to  take 
sides  with  my  children,  'cause  I've  kept  school  myself,  and  I 
know  how  bad  'tis;  but  I  do  hate  to  have  Isick  git  a  miff  agin 
the  school-ma'am  on  the  first  start,  and  if  I's  you  I'd  let  him 
have  the  seat  instead  of  George  Randall,  for  mebby  folks'll 
say  you're  partial  to  George,  bein'  that  his  father's  commit 
tee-man,  and  I've  kept  school  enough  to  know  that  partiality 
won't  do." 

As  well  as  I  could,  I  explained  the  matter  to  her,  telling 
her  I  wished  to  do  right,  and  meant  to  as  far  as  I  knew  how. 

"  I  presume  you  do,"  said  she,  "  or  I  shouldn't  'a  taken 
the  liberty  to  speak  to  you.  I  knew  you's  young,  and  I  felt 
afeard  you  didn't  know  what  an  undertakiu'  it  was  to  teach 
the  young  idee  how  to  '  shute.'  The  school-ma'ams  have  al 
ways  thought  a  sight  o'  me,  and  generally  tell  me  all  their  f 
troubles,  so  I  know  jest  how  to  take  their  part  when  the  rest 
of  the  folks  are  ag'in  'em.  Was  Susan  Brown  to  school? 
Bat  she  wasn't,  though,  I  know  she  wasn't." 

I  replied  that  there  was  a  little  girl  present  of  that  name, 
and  my  companion  continued : 

*  Mow  I'll  give  up,  if  Miss  Brown  has  come  round  enough 


SO  MEADOW    BROOK. 

to  send,  when  she  was  so  dreadfully  opposed  to  your  teaching 
You've  heerd  about  it,  I  s'pose?"  % 

I  answered  that  "  I  didn't  know  that  ^°ny  one  had  opposed 
me  except  Mrs.  Thompson." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  she,  assuming  an  injured  look  and  tone. 
"  Everybody  knows  about  that,  and  there's  some  sense  in 
their  bein'  mad,  for  'twas  plaguey  mortifyin'  to  Dell  to  offer 
to  teach  and  be  rejected  by  Mr.  Randall,  a  man  that  none  o' 
the  Thompsons  would  wipe  their  old  shoes  on,  and  then, 
jtisn't  every  big  bug  that  will  stoop  to  teach — for  you  know 
^tain't  considered  fust  cut." 

"  No,  I  didn't  know  it,"  and  so  I  said;  but  she  assured 
me  of  the  fact,  quoting  as  authority  both  Mrs.  Thompson  and 
Dell,  who,  I  found,  were  her  oracles  in  everything.  After  a 
time  I  brought  her  back  to  Mrs.  Brown,  whose  husband,  she 
said,  was  gone  to  sea,  and  who  had  herself  applied  for  the 
school, 

"  But  between  you  and  me,"  she  added,  speaking  in  a  whis 
per,  "  it's  a  mighty  good  thing  that  she  didn't  get  it,  for  she 
ain't  the  likeliest  person  that  ever  was,  and  nobody  under  the 
sun  would  have  sent  to  her.  Isick  shouldn't  a  gone  a  single 
day,  for  her  morals  is  very  bad.  She  'used  to  belong  to  the 
Orthodox  Church,  but  they  turned  her  out  for  dancin'  at » 
party;  and  when  she  lived  in  Wooster  she  j'ined  the  'Pisco- 
pals,  who,  you  know,  let  their  members  cut  up  all  sorts;  but, 
land  sakes!  how  I'm  talkin'I  You  must  not  breathe  a  word  I 
say,  for  I  make  it  a  p'int  not  to  slander  my  neighbors,  and  if 
everybody  minded  their  business  as  well  as  I  do,  there  wouldn't 
be  so  much  back-bitin'  as  there  is.  And  that  makes  me  think 
I've  had  a  mind  to  caution  you;  but  no,  I  guess  I  won't — 
mebby  you'll  tell  on't." 

Of  course  my  curiosity  was  roused,  and  of  course  I  said  I 
wouldn't  tell;  whereupon  she  proceeded  to  inform  me  that 
Mrs.  Randall  was  a  very  talkin*  woman,  and  I  must  be  pretty 
careful  in  her  presence.  "  You  can  tell  me  anything  you 
wish  to,"  said  she,  "  for  I'm  a  master  hand  to  keep  a  secret; 
but  MISH  Randall  is  forever  in  hot  water.  She  an'  Miss  Brown 
are  hand  in  glove,  and  both  on  'em  turn  up  their  noses  at 
Miss  Thompson  and  Dell,  who  never  pretend  to  make  any 
thing  of  'em.  I'm  considerable  intimate  at  the  captain's,  and 
I  know  all  about  it.  Dell  is  smart  as  a  steel  trap,  and  it's  a 
pity  she's  took  such  a  dislike  to  you." 

sl  don't  think  she  ought  to  blame  me,"  said  I,  ^for  1 
didn't  know  as  she  wanted  the  school --' 

'  'Tain't  that  altogether,"  resuiaed  Mrs.  Boss,  again  speak* 


MEADOW    BROOK.  61 

Jng  in  a  whisper.  "  'Tain't  that  altogether;  and  if  you'll 
never  lisp  a  word  on%  I'll  tell  you  the  hull  story." 

I  gave  the  required  promise,  and  then  Mrs,  Ross  proceeded 
to  inform  me  that  Dell  was  jealous  of  me. 

61  Jealous!''  I  exclaimed.     "  How  can  that  be?" 

"  You  remember  Doctor  Clayton,  don't  you?"  said  she. 

"  Yes,  I  remember  him;  but  what  has  he  to  do  with  Miss 
Thompson's  being  jealous  of  me?" 

"  Why,"  returned  Mrs.  Ross,  "  Dell's  kinder  settin'  her 
cap  for  him,  and  I  guess  he's  a  snickerin'  notion  after  her. 
^Anyway,  he  comes  there  pretty  often.  Well,  he  was  there  the 
'week  after  the  examination,  and  told  'em  about  you.  He 
said  you  was  bright  as  a  new  guinea,  and  had  better  larnin* 
than  half  the  teachers,  and  then  you  had  such  a  sweet  name 
— Rosa — he  liked  it.  You  orto  have  seen  how  mad  Dell  was 
at  you  after  he  was  gone.  I  don't  b'lieve  she'll  ever  git 
over  it." 

Here  Ike  called  out  that  "  the  Johnny-cake  was  burned 
blacker  than  his  hat,"  and  forthwith  Mrs.  Ross  started  for  the 
house,  first  bidding  me  "  keep  dark,"'  and  telling  me  she 
hoped  "  I  wouldn't  be  partial  to  Mr.  Randall's  children,  for 
they  needed  lickin'  if  ever  young  ones  did — they  warn't 
brought  up  like  Isick,  who  was  governed  so  well  at  home  that 
he  didn't  need  it  at  school." 

I  "was  learning  to  read  vhe  world's  great  book  fast,  very 
fast;  and  with  a  slightly  heavy  heart  I  turned  away,  pausing 
once  while  Mrs.  Ross,  from  the  doorstep,  called  to  me,  say 
ing  that  "  she  guessed  I'd  better  give  Isick  the  seat  to-mor 
row,  seein'  his  heart  was  set  on't." 

I  found  Mrs.  Randall  waiting  to  receive  me  in  a  clean  ging 
ham  dress  and  apron,  with  her  round,  good-humored  face 
shining  as  if  it  had  been  through  the  same  process  with  the 
long  Line  of  snow-white  linen  which  was  swinging  in  the 
clothes-yard.  The  little  hair  trunk  had  been  removed  to  the 
"  best  room,"  which  was  to  be  mine.  The  big  rocking-chair 
Avas  brought  out  for  me;  the  round  tea-table,  nicely  spread, 
stood  in  the  center  of  the  floor,  and  Mrs.  Randall  hoped  I 
would  make  myself  at  home,  and  put  up  with  her  own  rough 
ways  if  I  could".  To  be  sure,  she  didn't  have  things  quite  as 
nice  as  Mrs.  Captain  Thompson,  but  she  did  as  well  as  she 
knew  how.  Dear  Mrs.  Randall!  How  my  heart  warmed 
toward  her;  and  as  I  took  my  seat  at  the  table,  and  she  helped 
me  to  a  larger  slice  of  pure  white  honeycomb  than  I  had  ever 
before  been  allowed  to  eat  at  one  time,  I  felt  that  I  would  not 
exchange  her  house  for  a  home  at  Captain  Thompson's. 


5$  MEADOW    BKOOK, 

Without  any  intention  of  reveaftng  what  Mrs.  Ross  had  im« 
parted  to  me,  I  still  felt  a  great  curiosity  to  know  Mrs.  Ran 
dall's  opinon  of  her;  so,  after  a  time,  I  ventured  to  speak  of 
my  having  seen  her,  and  to  ask  when  and  where  she  taught 
school.  With  a  merry  laugh,  Mrs.  Randall  replied : 

"  I  wonder,  now,  if  she's  made  your  acquaintance  so  soon? 
She  told  you,  I  suppose,  to  come  to  her  with  all  your  troubles, 
for  she  knew  just  how  to  pity  you,  as  she'd  been  a  school- 
ma'am  herself?" 

My  flushed  cheeks  betrayed  the  fact  that  Mrs.  Randall  had>_ 
guessed  rightly,  and  after  a  moment  she  continued: 

"  Her  keeping  school  amounts  to  this:  When  she  was  ay 
girl,  a  friend  of  hers  who  was  teaching  wanted  to  go  away  for 
two  days,  and  got  Miss  Ross,  then  Nancy  Smedley,  to  take 
her  place,  and  that's  the  long  and  short  of  her  experience. 
She's  a  meddlesome  woman,  and  makes  more  trouble  in  the 
district  than  anybody  else.  She  tried  to  make  Miss  Brown 
think  she  was  misused  because  we  wouldn't  hire  her  instead  of 
you,  who  applied  first,  and  for  a  spell  I  guess  Miss  Brown  was 
a  little  sideways;  but  she's  a  sensible  woman  and  has  got  all 
over  it." 

I  was  about  to  tell  her  of  the  trouble  between  George  and 
Ike,  when  she  anticipated  me  by  saying: 

"  George  says  he  and  Ike  Ross  '  fit '  about  a  seat,  and  I've 


If  there  were  tears  in  my  eyes,  they  were  not  tears  of  grief, 
and  if  I  was  pleased  with  Mrs.  Randall  before,  I  liked  her  ten 
times  better  now,  for  I  saw  in  her  a  genuine  sincerity  which 
convinced  me  she  was  my  friend  indeed.  To  be  sure,  she  was 
rather  rough  and  unrefined,  but  her  heart  was  right,  and  in 
her  treatment  of  me  she  was  always  kind  and  considerate, 
making  ample  allowance  for  my  errors,  and  warmly  defending 
me  when  she  thought  I  wa.«  misused.  If  in  every  district 
there  were  more  like  Mrs.  Randall,  the  teacher's  lot  would 
not  be  one  half  so  hard  to  bear  as  oftentimes  it  is. 

When  I  awoke  next  morning  I  heard  the  large  rain-drops  | 
pattering  against  the  window,  and  on  pushing  aside  the  cur 
tain,  I  saw  that  the  dark,  heavy  clouds  betokened  a  dull, 
rainy  day.  Involuntarily,  I  thought  of  the  old  garret  at 
home,  where,  on  such  occasions,  we  always  resorted,  "  raising 
Cain  generally,"  as  Sally  said;  and  when,  with  umbrella, 
Tblanket-shawl,  and  overshoes,  I  started  for  school,  I  looked 
md  felt  forlorn  indeed,  Earning  «g  it  was,  it  did  not  prevent 


MEADOW    BROOfc.  # 

Mrb,  Ross  from  coming  out  with  the  table-spread  over  her 
head  to  tell  me  that  * '  though  she  never  warn*t  an  atom  par 
ticular,  and  never  meant  to  interfere  with  teachers,  as  she 
knew  just  what  it  was,  she  did  hope  I'd  giVe  Isick  the  seat, 
and  not  be  partial  to  George  Randall." 

I  replied  that  "  I'd  see  to  it,"  and  was  hurrying  along9 
'vhen  she  again  stopped  me  to  know  "what  I'd  got  in  my 
dinner -basket  that  was  good." 

f  Afterward  I  found  it  to  be  one  of  her  greatest  peculiarities, 
this  desire  to  know  what  her  neighbors  had  to  eat,  and  I  sel 
dom  passed  her  door  that  she  did  not  inquire  of  me  concern 
ing  the  "  kind  of  fare  "  I  had  at  the  different  places  where  I 
boarded.  When  I  reached  the  school-house,  I  found  George 
Randall  transferring  his  books  to  another  part  of  the  room,  at 
the  same  time  telling  Isaac  "  he  could  have  the  disputed  seat 
if  he  wanted  it." 

With  the  right  kind  of  training  and  influence  Isaac  Ross 
would  have  been  a  fine  boy,  for  there  were  in  his  disposition 
many  noble  traits  of  character,  and  when  he  saw  how  readily 
George  gave  up  the  seat,  he  refused  to  take  it,  saying  "  he 
didn't  care  a  darn  where  he  sat — one  place  was  as  good  as  an 
other." 

That  day  was  long  and  dreary  enough.  Not  more  than 
half  the  children  were  there,  and  I  found  it  exceedingly  tire 
some  and  monotonous  sitting  in  that  hard,  splint-bottomed 
chair,  and  telling  Emma  Fitch  and  Sophia  Brown,  for  the 
hundredth  time,  that  the  round  letter  was  "  0  "  and  the 
crooked  one  "  S."  The  scholars,  too,  began  to  grow  noisy, 
and  to  ask  me  scores  of  useless  questions.  Their  lessons  were 
half  learned;  and  if  I  made  a  suggestion,  I  was  quickly  in 
formed  that  their  former  teacher — Sally  Damm— didn't  do  so. 
Even  little  Emma  Fitch,  when  I  bid  her  keep  her  eyes  on  the 
'book  instead  of  letting  them  wander  about  the  loom,  lisped 
out  that  "  Thally  Damm  let  her  look  off  " — a  fact  I  did  not 
dispute  when  I  found  that  she  had  been  to  school  all  winter 
without  learning  a  single  letter  by  sight,  though  she  could  re 
peat  the  entire  alphabet  forward  and  back  and  be  all  the  while 
watching  a  squirrel  on  the  branches  of  the  tree  which  grew 
near  the  window. 

Before  night  a  peculiar  kind  of  sickness — never  dangerous, 
but  decidedly  disagreeable — began  to  creep  over  me,  and  had 
it  not  been  for  the  mud  I  should  probably  have  footed  it  to 
Meadow  Brook,  where  alone  could  be  found  the  cure  for  my 
disease.  Just  before  school  was  out,  a  little  boy  cried  to  go 
home,  and  this  was  the  one  straw  too  many.  Hastily  dismiss- 


'&£  MEADOW    BKOOk. 

ing  the  scholars,  I  turned  toward  the  window,  and  my  tear& 
fell  as  fast  as  did  the  rain  in  the  early  morning. 

"  The  school-ma'am's  cryin',  she  is.  I  saw  her,"  circu 
lated  rapidly  among  the  children,  who  all  rushed  back  to  as 
certain  the  truth  for  themselves. 

"  I  should  think  the  would'  cry,"  said  one  of  the  girls  to 
her  brother.     "  You've  acted  ugly  enough  to  make  anybody' 
cry;  and  if  you  don't  behave  better  to-morrow,  Jim  Maxwell, 
Til  tell  mother!" 

After  the  delivery  of  this  speech,  the  entire  group  moved 
away,  leaving  me  alone;  and  sure  am  I  there  was  never  a 
more  homesick  child  than  was  the  one  who,  with  her  head 
lying  upon  the  desk,  sat  there  weeping  in  that  low,  dirty 
school-room,  on  that  dark,  rainy  afternoon.  Where  now  was 
all  the  happiness  I  had  promised  myself  in  teaching?  Alas! 
it  was  rapidly  disappearing,  and  I  was  just  making  up  my 
mind  to  brave  the  ridicule  of  Meadow  Brook,  and  give  up  my 
school  at  once,  when  a  hand  was  laid  very  gently  on  my  shoul 
der,  and  a  voice  partially  familiar  said: 

:<  What's  the  matter,  Rosa?" 

So  absorbed  was  I  in  my  grief,  that  I  had  not  heard  the 
sound  of  footsteps,  and  with  a  start  of  surprise  I  looked  up 
and  met  the  serene,  handsome  eyes  of  Doctor  Clayton,  who 
stood  at  my  side!  He  had  been  to  visit  a  patient,  he  said, 
and  was  on  his  way  home,  when,  seeing  the  door  ajar,  he  had 
come  in,  hoping  to  find  me  there;  "  but  I  did  not  expect 
this,"  he  continued,  pointing  to  the  tears  on  my  cheek. 
"  What  is  the  matter?  Don't  the  scholars  behave  well,  or  are 
you  homesick?" 

At  this  question  I  began  to  cry  so  violently  that  the  doctor, 
after  exhausting  all  his  powers  of  persuasion,  finally  laid  his 
hand  soothingly  on  my  rough,  tangled  curls  ere  I  could  be 
(induced  to  stop.  Then,  when  I  told  him  how  disappointed  I 
'was,  how  I  wished  I  had  never  tried  to  teach,  and  how  I  meant 
to  give  it  up,  he  talked  to  me  so  kindly,  so  brother-like,  still 
keeping  his  hand  on  my  shoulder,  where  it  had  fallen  when  I 
lifted  up  my  head,  that  I  grew  very  calm,  thinking  I  could 
stay  in  that  gloomy  room  forever  if  he  were  only  there!  He 
was,  as  I  have  said  before,  very  handsome,  and  his  manner 
was  so  very  fascinating  and  his  treatment  of  me  so  much  like 
what  I  fancied  Charlie's  would  be,  were  he  a  grown-up  man 
and  I  a  little  girl,  that  I  began  to  like  him  very,  very  muck,, 
thinking  then  that  my  feeling  for  him  was  such  as  a  child 
would  entertain  for  a  father,  for  1  had  heard  that  he  was 


MEADOW    BROOR. 

twenty-seven,  and  between  that   and  thirteen  there  was,  in 
any  estimation,  an  impassable  gulf. 

"  I  wish  I  had  my  buggy  here,"  he  said  at  last,  after  con 
sulting  his  watch,  which  pointed  to  half  past  five.  "  I  wish  I 
had  my  buggy  here,  for  then  I  could  carry  you  home.  You'll 
wet  your  feet,  and  you  ought  not  to  walk.  Suppose  you  ride  , 
L".  my  lap;  but  no,"  he  added,  quickly,  "you'd  better  not^ 
for  Mrs.  Thompson  and  Mother  Ross  would  make  it  a  neigh* 
borhood  talk." 

There  was  a  wicked  look  in  his  eye  as  he  said  this,  and  I 
secretly  wondered  if  he  entertained  the  same  opinion  of  Dell 
that  he  evidently  did  of  her  sister.  At  length,  shaking  my 
hand,  he  bid  me  good-bye,  telling  me  that  the  Examining 
Committee  had  placed  me  and  my  school  in  his  charge,  and 
that  he  should  probably  visit  me  officially  on  Thursday  of  the 
following  week.  Like  a  very  foolish  child,  I  watched  him 
until  a  turn  in  the  road  hid  him  from  view,  and  then,  with  a 
feeling  I  could  not  analyze,  I  started  for  my  boarding-place, 
thinking  that  if  I  gave  up  my  school  I  should  wait  until  after 
Thursday. 

In  the  door-way,  with  her  sleeves  rolled  up  above  her 
elbows,  and  her  hair,  as  she  herself  said,  "  at  sixes  and 
sevens,"  was  Mrs.  Ross,  who,  after  informing  me  that  "  it 
had  been  a  desput  rainy  day,"  asked  "  if  I  knew  whether 
Doctor  Clayton  had  been  to  Captain  Thompson's?" 

There  was  no  reason  why  I  should  blush  at  this  question, 
but  I  did,  though  my  sun-Donnet  fortunately  concealed  the 
fact  from  my  interrogator,  who,  without  waiting  for  an  an 
swer,  continued: 

"  He  drove  past  here  about  fifteen  minutes  ago,  and  I  guess 
he's  been  sparkin'  Dell." 

It  must  have  been  an  evil  spirit  surely  which  prompted  my 
reply  that  "  he  had  been  at  tne  school-house  with  me." 

"  How  you  talk!  Isick  never  said  a  word  about  it!"  was 
Mrs.  Ross's  exclamation,  the  blank  expression  of  her  face 
growing  still  more  blank  when  I  told  her  that  he  did  not  come 
until  the  scholars  were  gone. 

"You  two  been  there  all  sole  alone-  since  four  o'clock? 
I'll  give  up  now!  I  hope  Dell  Thompson  won't  find  it  out, 
for  she's  awful  slanderous;  but,"  she  added,  coming  to  the 
gate  and  speaking  in  a  whisper,  "  I'm  glad  on't,  and  mebby 
she'll  draw  in  her  horns  if  she  finds  that  some  of  the  *  under 
crust,'  as  she  calls  'em,  can  be  noticed  by  Doctor  Clayton  $3 
Well  as  herself." 

Equivocal  as  this  compliment  waa,  it  gratified  me:  and  froitt 


that  moment  I  felt  a  spirit  of  rivalry  toward  Dell  Thompson. 
Still  I  did  not  wish  her  to  know  of  Doctor  Clayton's  call,  and. 
so  I  said  to  Mrs.  Ross,  wh3  replied: 

"  You  needn't  be  an  atom  afeard  o'  my  tattlin'  I  know 
too  well  what  'tis  to  be  a  school-marm,  and  have  the  hull 
deestrict  peekin'  at  you.  So  if  you've  anything  you  want 
\  kept,  I'm  the  one;  for  I  can  be  still  as  the  grave.  Did  the 
doctor  say  anything  about  Dell?  But  he  didn't,  I  know,  and 
'tain't  likely  he  said  anything  about  anybody." 

I  replied  that  he  talked  with  me  about  my  school,  and  ther. 
as  I  heard  the  clock  strike  six,  I  walked  along.  Looking  back, 
as  I  entered  Mr.  Randall's  gate,  I  saw  Mrs.  Ross's  old  plaid 
shawl  and  brown  bonnet  disappearing  over  the  hill  as  fast  as 
her  feet  could  take  them,  but  I  had  no  suspicion  that  her  des 
tination  was  Captain  Thompson's.  I  did  not  know  the  world 
then  as  well  as  I  do  now,  and  when  the  next  morning  I  met 
Dell  Thompson,  who  stared  at  me  insolently,  while  a  haughty 
sneer  curled  her  lip,  I  had  no  idea  that  she  was  jealous  of  me, 
little  Rosa  Lee,  whose  heart  was  lighter,  and  whose  task 
seemed  far  easier  on  account  of  Doctor  Clayton's  past  and 
promised  visit. 

Saturday  night  came  at  last,  and  very  joyfully  I  started 
home  on  foot,  feeling  not  at  all  burdened  with  the  compli 
ments  of  my  patrons  or  the  esteem  of  my  pupils.  Oh,  what 
a  shout  was  raised  at  the  shortness  of  my  three  weeks  as  1 
entered  our  sitting-room!  All  laughed  at  me  except  my 
mother.  She  was  not  disappointed,  and  when  I  drew  Carrie's 
little  rocking-chair  to  her  side,  and  told  her  how  hard  my 
head  was  aching,  she  laid  her  soft  hand  caressingly  upon  my 
brow,  and  gently  smoothing  my  short  curls,  bathed  my  fore 
head  in  camphor  until  the  pain  was  gone.  Had  there  been 
no  one  present  but  our  own  family,  I  should  probably  have 
fcried;  but  owing  to  some  untoward  circumstance,  Aunt  Sally 
Wright  was  there  visiting  that  afternoon,  and  as  a  teacher  I 
felt  obliged  to  maintain  my  dignity  before  her  prying  eyes. 
Almost  her  first  salutation  to  me  was: 

''  Waal,  Rosa,  so  you've  grown  ola  since  you  left  home?" 

"  I  don't  understand  what  you  mean,"  I  answered. 

"Why,  I  mean,"  said  she,  "that  somebody  told  me  that 
Mrs.  Green  told  them,  that  Major  Pond's  wife  told  her,  that 
Mary  Downes  said,  that  Nancy  Rice  heard  Miss  Cap'n  Thomp 
son  say  that  you  told  Doctor  Clayton  you  wa?  sixteen!" 

I  knew  that  the  subject  of  my  age  had  not  come  up  bo  < 
tween  me  and  the  doctor,  but  it  was  useless  to  deny  a  story  so 
well  authenticated,  so  I  said  nothing:,  and  Aunt  Sallr  eo»* 


MEADOW    BROOK.  5<? 

tinued:  "  They  do  Stay  you  thrash  'em  round  about  right," 
while  mother  asked  "  who  Doctor  Clayton  was." 

"  Why,  he's  a  young  pill  peddler,  who's  taken  a  shine  to 
Rosa,  and  stayed  with  her  alone  in  the  school-house  until  pitch 
dark,"  said  Aunt  Sally,  her  little  green  eyes  twinkling  with 
the  immsnse  satisfaction  she  felt. 

Greatly  I  marveled  as  to  the  source  whence  she  obtained  the 
information,  which  so  greatly  exceeded  the  truth;  and  consid 
ering  that  no  one  knew  of  the  doctor's  call  but  Mrs.  Ross,  it1 
really  was  a  wonder.  She  was  proceeding  with  her  remarks, 
when  we  were  summoned  to  the  supper-table,  where  green  tea 
had  so  good  an  effect  upon  her,  that  by  the  time  she  was  blow- 
ing  her  third  cup,  she  began  to  unbend,  repeating  to  me  sev 
eral  complimentary  remarks  which  she  said  came  from  Mrs. 
Ross.  By  this  I  knew  that  she  had  Pine  Hill  as  well  as 
Meadow  Brook  upon  her  hands,  and,  indeed,  'twas  strange 
how  much  Aunt  Sally  did  manage  to  attend  to  at  once;  for, 
besides  keeping  her  son's  wife  continually  fretted,  and  her 
daughter  constantly  quarreling  with  her  husband,  by  her  fool 
ish  interference,  there  was  scarcely  a  thing  transpired  in  the 
neighborhood  in  which  she  did  not  have  a  part.  Not  a  mar 
riage  was  in  prospect,  but  she  knew  something  bad  of  both 
parties;  not  a  family  jar  occurred  in  which  she  did  not  have  a 
finger.  Not  a  man  owed  more  than  he  was  worth,  but  she 
had  foreseen  it  from  the  first  in  the  extravagance  of  his  wife. 
But  everybody  in  Meadow  Brook  knew  Aunt  Sally,  and  it  was 
a  common  saying  that  "  her  tongue  was  no  slander;"  so  I  did 
not  feel  as  much  annoyed  as  I  otherwise  should  at  her  spiteful 
remarks,  which  continued  with  little  intermission  nncil  dark, 
when,  gathering  up  her  snuff-box,  knitting,  and  work-bag, 
she  started  for  home. 

The  next  day  was  the  Sabbath,  and  if  at  church  I  did  now 
and  then  cast  a  furtive  glance  at  the  congregation,  to  see  if 
they  were  looking  at  me  because  I  was  a  "  school-ma'am/'  it 
was  a  childish  vanity  which  /  have  long  since  forgiven,  as  I 
trust  my  reader  will  do.  Among  the  audience  was  our  minis 
ter's  young  bride,  and  when,  after  church,  he  introduced  her/ 
to  me,  saying,  "  This  is  Rosa,  who,  I  told  you,  was  only  thir 
teen  and  teaching  school,"  I  felt  quite  reconciled  to  my  lot. 
and  thought  that  after  all  it  was  an  honor  to  be  a  teacher. 


58  MEADOW    BROOK. 


CHAPTER  VI. 
DOCTOB  CLAYTON'S  VISIT. 

VERY  slowly  passed  the  days  of  my  second  week,  for  m« 
mind  was  constantly  dwelling  upon  the  important  Thursday, 
which  came  at  last,  and,  with  more  than  usual  care,  I  dressed 
myself  for  school,  sporting  a  pale  blue-and- white  muslin, 
vhich  mother  said  I  must  wear  only  on  great  occasions.  And 
this,  to  me,  was  a  great  occasion;  and  if,  for  want  of  a  better 
mirror,  I  at  noon  went  down  to  a  clear  spring  in  the  woods, 
and  there  gave  a  few  smoothing  touches  to  my  toilet,  it  was  a 
weakness  of  which,  in  a  similar  \vay,  many  an  older  female 
has  been  guilty.  On  my  return  to  the  school-house,  I  request 
ed  one  of  the  larger  girls  to  sweep  the  floor  as  clean  as  she 
possibly  could,  while  two  or  three  of  the  boys  were  sent  after 
some  green  boughs  to  hang  over  the  windows. 

"  I'll  bet  we  are  going-  to  have  company;  I  thought  so  this 
morning  when  I  see  the  school-ma'am  all  dressed  up,"  whis 
pered  one  to  another;  and  after  a  time,  Jim  Maxwell's  sister 
ventured  to  ask  mt,  not  tuho  was  coming,  but  "  how  many." 

With  a  blush,  I  replied,  "  Nobody  but  Doctor  Clayton," 
wondering  why  liu  name  should  cleave  so  to  the  roof  of  my 
mouth.  In  a  few  minutes  the  fact  that  'Doctor  Clayton  was 
coming  was  known  both  indoors  and  out,  and  when  I  saw  how 
fast  John  Thompson  took  himself  home  after  learning  the 
news,  I  involuntarily  felt  as  if  some  evil  were  impending — a 
presentiment  which  proved  correct,  for  not  long  after  school 
commenced  there  came  a  gentle  rap  at  the  outer  door,  which 
caused  a  great  straightening  up  among  the  scholars,  and 
brought  me  instantly  to  my  feet,  for  I  supposed,  of  course,  he 
had  come.  What,  then,  was  my  surprise  when,  instead  of 
him,  I  met  a  haughty-looking  young  lady,  who,  frowning 
majestically^ upon  me,  introduced  herself  as  "  Miss  Thomp 
son,"  saying  she  had  come  to  visit  the  school. 

I  had  never  before  had  so  good  a  view  of  her,  and  now, 
when  I  saw  how  dignified  she  appeared,  and  that  there  really 
was  in  her  manner  something  elegant  and  refined,  I  not  only 
felt  myself  greatly  her  inferior,  but  I  fancied  that  Doctor 
Clayton  would  also  observe  the  difference  between  us  when  he 
saw  us  together.  After  offering  her  the  seat  of  honor — the 
splint-bottomed  chair — I  proceeded  with  my  duties  as  com 
posedly  as  possible,  mentally  hoping  that  the  doctor  would 
come  soon.  She  probably  divinflA  **y  thoughts,  for  once, 


MEADOW    BEOOK.  69 

when  I  cast  a  wistful  glance  over  -the  long  hill,  she  said: 
"  You  seem  to  be  constantly  on  the  lookout.  Are  you  ex 
pecting  any  one?" 

Involuntarily  my  eyes  sought  hers,  but  I  quailed  beneath 
their  quizzical  expression,  and  scarcely  knowing  what  I  said, 
replied,  "  No,  ma'am/'  repenting  the  falsehood  the  moment 
it  was  uttered,  and  half  resolving  to  confess  the  truth,  when 
she  rejoined,  "  Oh,  I  thought  you  were,"  while  at  the  same 
moment  a  little  girl,  who  had  been  asleep,  rolled  from  her 
'seat,  bumping  her  head,  and  raising  such  an  outcry  that  for 
(a  time  I  forgot  what  I  had  said,  and  when  it  again  recurred 
'to  me  I  thought  it  was  too  late  to  rectify  it.  It  was  the  sec 
ond  falsehood  I  remembered  telling,  and  it  troubled  me  great 
ly.  Turn  it  which  way  I  would,  it  was  a  lie  still,  and  it  smote 
heavily  upon  my  conscience.  Slowly  the  afternoon  dragged 
on,  but  it  brought  no  Doctor  Clayton;  and  when,  at  a  quarter 
o£  four,  I  called  up  my  class  of  Abecedarians  to  read,  what 
with  the  lie  and  the  disappointment,  my  heart  was  so  full  that 
I  could  not  force  back  all  the  tears  which  struggled  so  fiercely 
for  egress;  and  when  it  came  Willie  Randall's  turn  to  read, 
two  or  three  large  drops  fell  upon  his  chubby  hand,  and,  look 
ing  in  my  face., -he  called  out  in  a  loud,  distinct  voice, 
"You're  cryin',  you  be!" 

This,  of  course,  brought  a  laugh  from  all  the  scholars,  in 
which  I  was  fain  to  join,  although  I  felt  greatly  chagrined 
that  I  should  have  betrayed  so  much  weakness  before  Dell 
Thompson,  who,  in  referring  to  it  when  school  was  out,  said 
"  she  supposed  I  wanted  to  see  my  mother — or  somebody!" 

The  sarcastic  smile  which  dimpled  the  corners  of  her  mouth 
angered  me,  and  when,  at  last,  I  was  alone,  my  long  pent-up 
tears  fell  in  copious  showers.  It  is  my  misfortune  never  to 
be  able  to  cry  without  disfiguring  my  face,  so  that  it  is  some- 
tunes  almost  hideous  to  look  upon;  and  now,  as  I  slowly 
walked  home,  I  carefully  kept  my  parasol  lowered,  so  that  no 
one  should  see  me.  But  I  could  not  elude  the  vigilance  o? 
Mrs.  Ross,  who,  as  usual,  was  at  her  post  in  the  door-way. 
Although  I  knew  she  was  a  dangerous  woman,  I  rather  liked 
her,  for  laere  was,  to  me,  something  winning  in  her  apparent 
friendliness,  and  we  had  come  to  be  quite  intimate — so  much 
so  that  I  usually  called  there  on  my  way  to  or  from  school; 
but  now,  when  she  bid  me  come  in,  I  declined,  which  act 
brou^j'j  her  at  once  to  the  gate,  where  she  obtained  a  full 
View  of  my  swollen  features. 

"  Laws  a  mercy!"  she  exclaimed,  "  what's  up  now?  Why, 
you  look  like  a  toad!  What's  the  matter?" 


40 


from  .ir.e. 

That  night  she  called  at  Mrs.  Kandall%  and  after  sitting 
awhile,  c/sked  me  "  to  walk  a  little  piece  with  her."  I  saw 
there  was  something  on  her  mind,  and  conjecturing  that  it 
might  have  some  connection  with  me,  I  obeyed  willingly,  not 
withstanding  Mrs.  KandalFs  silent  attempts  to  keep  me  back, 
Twitching  my  sleeve  when  we  were  outside  the  gate,  Mrs,  Ross 
asked  if  "  it  were  true  that  I  cried  because  Doctor  Clayton 
didn't  come  as  he  promised." 

"  Why,  what  do  you  mean?"  I  said.  To  which  she  re 
plied,  by  telling  me  that  after  I  left  her  she  just  ran  into 
Cap'n  Thompson's  a  minute  or  two,  when,  who  should  she 
find  there  but  Doctor  Clayton,  and  when  Dell  told  him  she'd 
been  to  visit  the  school,  he  said,  "  Ah,  indeed;  I  was  intend 
ing  to  do  so  myself  this  afternoon,  but  I  was  necessarily  de- 
tamed  by  a  very  sick  patient." 

"  l  That  explains  why  she  cried  so,'  said  Dell,  and  then," 
continued  Mrs.  Ross,  "  she  went  on  to  tell  him  how  you 
looked  out  of  the  winder,  and  when  she  asked  you  if  you  ex 
pected  anybody,  you  said  '  No,'  and  then  at  last  you  cried 
right  out  in  the  school." 

"The  mean  thing!"  I  exclaimed.  "Did  she  tell  Doctor 
Clayton  that?" 

"Yes,  she  did,"  answered  Mrs.  Ross;  "and  it  mule  my 
blood  bile  to  hear  her  go  on  makin'  fun  o'  you  —  that  is,  kind 
er  makin'  fun." 

4<  And  the  doctor,  what  did  he  say?"  I  asked.  To  which 
she  replied,  "  Oh,  he  laughed,  and  said  it  was  too  bad  to  dis 
appoint  you  if  it  affected  you  like  that,  but  he  couldn't  help 
it." 

I  hardly  knew  at  which  I  was  most  indignant,  Doctor  Clay 
ton  or  Dell,  and  when  I  laid  my  aching  head  on  my  pillow,, 
my  last  thoughts  were  that  "  if  Doctor  Clayton  ever  did  come 
to  the  school  I'd  let  him  know  I  didn't  care  for  him  —  he  might 
have  Dell  Thompson  and  welcome!" 

I  changed  my  mind,  however,  when,  early  the  next  after 
noon,  the  gentleman  himself  appeared  to  vindicate  his  cause, 
saying  he  was  sorry  that  he  could  not  have  kept  his  appoint 
ment,  adding,  as  he  finally  relinquished  my  hand,  "  You  had 
company,  though,  I  believe;  and  so,  on  the  whole,  I  am  glad 
I  was  detained,  for  I  had  rather  visit  you  alone." 

Much  as  I  now  esteem  Doctor  Clayton,  I  do  not  hesitate  to 
say  that  he  was  then  a  male  flirt,  a  species  of  mankind  which 
I  detest.  He  was  the  handsomest,  most  agreeable  man  I  had 


MEADOW    SROOft.  £1 

ever  seen,  and  py  some  strange  fascination,  he  possessed  the 
power  of  swaying  ma  at  his  will.  This  he  well  knew,  and 
hence  the  wrong  he  committed  by  working  upon  my  feelings. 
Never  passed  hours  more  agreeably  to  me  than  did  those  of 
that  afternoon.  And  I  even  forgot  that  I  was  to  go  home 
that  night,  and  that  in  all  probability  father  would  come  for 
.me  as  soon  as  school  was  out,  thus  preventing  the  quiet  talk 
alono  with  Doctor  Clayton,  which  I  so  much  desired;  so  when, 
about  four  o'clock,  I  saw  the  head  of  old  Sorrel  appearing 
over  the  hill,  my  emotions  were  not  particularly  pleasant,  and 
I  wished  I  had  not  been  so  foolish  as  to  insist  upon  going 
home  every  week.  The  driver,  however,  proved  to  be  Char 
lie,  and  this  in  a  measure  consoled  me,  for  he,  I  knew,  waif 
good  at  taking  hints,  and  would  wait  for  me  as  long  as  I  de 
sired;  so  I  welcomed  him  with  a  tolerably  good  grace,  intro- 
ducing  him  to  Doctor  Clayton,  who  addressed  him  as  Mr.  Leer 
thereby  winning  his  friendship  at  once  and  forever! 

When  school  was  out  and  the  scholars  gone,  I  commenced 
making  preparations  for  my  departure,  shutting  down  the 
windows  and  piling  away  books  slowly  and  deliberately,  while 
Charlie,  who  seemed  in  no  hurry,  amused  himself  by  whip- 

B'ng  at  the  thistle-tops  which  grew  near  the  door.  At  last 
octor  Clayton,  turning  to  him,  said,  "  And  so  you  have 
come  to  carry  your  sister  home,  when  I  was  promising  myself 
that  pleasure?" 

Charlie  glanced  at  my  face,  and  its  expression,  doubtless, 
prompted  his  answer,  "  You  can  do  so  now,  if  you  choose,  fot 
I  like  to  ride  alone." 

Of  course  I  disclaimed  against  such  an  arrangement,  but 
my  objections  were  overruled,  and  almost  before  I  knew  what 
I  was  doing,  I  found  myself  seated  in  Doctor  Clayton's  cov 
ered  buggy,  with  him  at  my  side.  Telling  Charlie  "not  to 
be  surprised  if  he  did  not  see  us  until  sunset,"  he  drove  off  in 
•a  different  direction  from  Meadow  Brook,  remarking  to  me 
that  "  it  was  a  fine  afternoon  for  riding,  and  he  meant  to 
enjoy  it." 

I  hardly  know  whether  h~,  had  any  object  in  passing  Cap 
tain  Thompson's;  but  he  certainly  did  so,  bowing  graciously 
and  showing  his  white  teeth  to  Dell,  who,  from  a  chamber 
window,  looked  haughtily  down  upon  me,  and,  as  I  afterward 
learned,  made  fun  of  my  pink  sun-bonnet  and  little  yellow- 
dotted  shawl.  The  sight  of  her  naturally  led  him  to  speak  of 
her,  and  much  to  my  surprise,  he  asked  me  how  I  liked  her. 
£  could  not  answer  trutbiuliy  and  say  "  very  well;"  so  I  re- 


62  MEADOW    BROOK. 

plied  that  "  I  hardly  knew  her.     She  was  very  fine-looking, 
and  I  presumed  she  was  very  intelligent  and  accomplished. 

"You  are  a  good-hearted  little  girl,  Rosa/'  said  he,  "to 
epeak  thus  of  her.  Do  you  suppose  she  would  do  the  same  by 
you  if  asked  a  similar  question:"' 

"  Oh,  no/'  I  answered,  eagerly,  <K  she  couldn't  say  I  war 
fine-looking.  Nobody  ever  said  that." 

"  If  I  should  tell  you  that  /  think  you  better  looking  thar- 
Dell  Thompson,  what  would  you  say?"  .he  asked,  looking 
under  my  bonnet,  while,  with  glowing  cheeks,  I  turned  my> 
head  away;  and  replied,  "  I  am  sure  you  would  not  mean  it. 
1  know  I  am  ugly;  but  I  do  not  care  so  much  about  it  now  as 
I  used  to." 

There  was  a  silence  for  some  minutes,  and  when  he  spoke 
again,  it  was  of  faces,  which,  without  regularity  of  features  or 
brilliancy  of  complexion,  still  had  an  expression  exceedingly 
pleasing  and  attractive.  "  I  do  not  say  yours  is  such  a  face," 
said  he,  "  for  I  never  flatter;  but  I  do  say,  and  I  mean  it,  too, 
that  I  like  your  looks  far  better  than  I  do  Miss  Thompson's." 

If  I  had  cried  then,  as  I  wished  to,  I  should  have  done  a 
most  foolish  thing;  but  by  a  strong  effort  of  the  will,  I  forced 
down  my  tears,  and  changing  the  conversation,  commenced 
talking  on  subjects  quite  foreign  to  Dell  Thompson  or  good 
looks.  I  found  Doctor  Clayton  a  most  agreeable  companion, 
and  ere  the  close  of  that  ride,  he  was  "all  the  world"  to 
me.  In  short,  I  suppose  I  was  as  much  in  love  as  a  child  of 
thirteen  can  well  be:  and  when  we  at  last  reached  home  and 
I  introduced  him  to  my  mother  and  sisters,  I  blushed  like  a 
guilty  thing,  stealing  out  of  the  room  as  soon  as  possible,  and 
staying  out  for  a  long  time,  although  I  wanted  so  much  to  be 
back  there  with  him. 

"  Catched  a  beau,  hain't  you?  and  a  handsome  one,  too!" 
said  Sally,  applying  her  eye  to  the  key-hole  and  thus  obtaining 
a  view  of  his  face. 

Tommy  Trimmer,  a  little  boy,  five  years  of  age,  who  lived 
near  by,  and  who  chanced  to  be  there,  overheard  her,  and 
when  Doctor  Clayton,  who  was  very  fond  of  children,  coaxed 
him  into  his  lap,  he  asked,  pointing  to  me^  "  Be  you  Rosa's 
beau?  Sally  said  you  was!" 

The  doctor  laughed  aloud,  referring  Tommy  to  me  for  an 
and  telling  him  "  it  was  just  as  I  said. 


u  Rosa  is  altogether  too  young  to  be  riding  round  with 
beaus.  It  will  give  her  a  bad  name,"  said  grandma,  when  at 
last  the  doctor  was  gone. 

Ub  one  made  any  answer  until  Lizzie,  who  was  more  of  mj 


MEADOW    BROOK,  63 

of  thinking^  said,  "  You  must  have  had  beaus  early, 
grandma,  for  you  weren't  quite  fifteen  when  you  were  mar 
ried;  I  saw  it  so  in  the  Bible." 

Of  course,  grandma  had  nothing  to  offer  in  her  own  de 
fense,  save  the  very  correct  remark  that  "  girls  nowadays 
were  not  what  they  were  when  she  was  young,"  and  her^  the 
Conversation  ceased. 


CHAPTER  VIL 

DELL  THOMPSON'S   PABTY. 

ONE  day,  about  three  weeks  after  the  commencement  of 
my  school,  I  was  surprised  by  a  call  from  Dell  Thompson, 
who,  after  conversing  awhile  very  familiarly,  astonished  me 
with  an  invitation  to  visit  her  the  next  afternoon.  "  She  was 
going  to  have  a  few  of  her  friends  from  the  village,"  she  said. 
"  Doctor  Clayton  with  the  rest." 

Here  she  looked  at  me,  and  I  looked  out  of  the  window, 
while  she  continued,  "  You'll  come,  I  suppose?" 

I  replied  that  I  would,  after  which  she  departed,  leaving 
IP  e  in  a  perfect  state  of  bewilderment.  /  invited  to  Captain 
Thompson's,  with  Dell's  fashionable  friends!  What  could  it 
mean,  and  what  should  I  wear?  This  last  was  by  far  the 
more  important  question,  for  I  knew  that  the  people  of  the 
village  were  noted  for  their  fine  dress,  and  I,  of  course,  could 
not  compete  with  them  in  point  of  elegance.  Doctor  Clay 
ton,  too,  I  had  heard,  was  rather  fastidious  in  his  ideas  of  a 
lady's  dress,  and  my  heart  sunk  within  me  as  I  mentally  enu- 
.  merated  the  articles  of  my  scanty  wardrobe,  finding  therein 
nothing  which  I  deemed  fit  for  the  occasion,  save  a  white 
dotted  muslin,  which  was  now  lying  soiled  and  wrinkled  at  the 
bottom  of  my  trunk.  It  is  true,  I  had  a  blue-and-white  lawn, 
neatly  made  and  quite  becoming;  but  my  heart  was  set  upon 
the  muslin,  and  so  when  Mrs.  Ross,  with  whom  I  was  that 
week  boarding,  offered  to  wash  and  iron  it,  I  accepted  the 
i  proffered  kindness. 

The  next  morning,  when  I  passed  Captain  Thompson's,  I 
'  observed  a  great  commotion  in  and  around  the  house.  The 
blinds  were  thrown  back,  and  through  the  parlor  windows  I 
caught  sight  of  brooms  and  dusters,  while  at  intervals  during 
the  day  the  scholars  brought  me  tidings  of  cake,  jellies,  and 
ice  cream,  said  to  be  in  progress.  At  precisely  four  o'clock  I 
dismissed  school,  and  taking  a  short  cut  across  the  fields,  soon 
reached  uiy  boarding-place,  where  I  found  Mrs.  Boss  bending 


0$  MEADOW    BROOK. 

over  the  ironing-table  with  a  face  flushed  and  indicative  of 
some  anxiety. 

"  I  never  see  nothin'  beat  it,"  she  began,  holding  down  her 
hot  iron  and  thereby  making  a  slightly  yellow  spot  in  the 
dress.  "  I  never  see  nothin'  beat  it,  how  this  gown  pesters 
me.  It  must  be  poor  stuff,  or  something  but  mebby  it'll 
look  better  on  you/'  she  continued,  as  she  gave  it  a  finishing 
touch,  and  then  held  it  up  to  view.^ 

And,  indeed,  it  was  sorry-looking  enough;  some  places 
being  wholly  destitute  of  starch,  while  others  were  rough  andf 
stiff  as  a  piece  of  buckram,  Common  sense  told  me  to  wear 
the  blue,  but  I  had  heard  Doctor  Clayton  say  that  nothing 
became  a  young  girl  so  well  as  white,  and  so  I  determined  to 
wear  it.  It  would  look  better  on  me,  I  thought,  and  with  all 
the  eagerness  of  a  child  I  commenced  my  toilet,  discovering  to 
my  great  dismay  that  I  had  neither  shoes  nor  stockings  fit  to 
wear  with  a  muslin  dress.  The  week  previous  I  had  taken 
my  best  ones  home,  where  I  had  purposely  left  them,  not 
thinking  it  possible  for  me  to  need  them.  Here  then  was  a 
dilemma,  out  of  which  Mrs.  Ross  at  last  helped  me,  by  offer 
ing  to  lend  the  articles  which  I  lacked — an  offer  which  I  glad 
ly  accepted.  Her  stockings  were  rather  coarse,  having  been 
knit  by  herself,  but  they  possessed  the  virtue  of  being  white 
and  clean,  and  would  have  answered  my  purpose  very  well, 
had  it  not  been  for  the  slippers,  which  were  far  too  long  for 
me,  and  showed  almost  the  whole  of  my  foot.  Besides  that, 
I  found  it  rather  difficult  to  keep  them  on,  until  Mrs.  Ross 
suggested  the  propriety  of  stuffing  the  toes  with  cotton.  This 
done,  I  donned  the  muslin  dress,  which  seemed  to  me  much 
shorter  than  whan  I  had  last  worn  it,  inasmuch  as  I  had  the 
painful  consciousness  of  being  all  feet,  whenever  I  glanced  in 
that  direction. 

But  Mrs.  Ross  said  "  I  looked  mighty  crank,"  at  the  same 
time  fastening  on  my  low-necked  waist  her  glass  breast-pin, 
which  she  pronounced  "  just  the  checker."  "  You  orto  have 
some  gloves  to  wear  when  you  get  there,"  said  she,  as  she  saw 
me  drawing  on  my  brown  ones.  "  and  I  b'lieve  I've  got  the/ 
very  thing,"  she  continued,  bringing  from  the  depths  of  the 
bureau  drawer  a  pair  of  white  cotton  mitts  fancifully  em 
broidered  on  the  back  with  yellow  and  blue.  These  she  bid 
me  "  tuck  in  my  bosom  until  I  got  there,  and  on  no  account 
to  lose  'em,  as  she  had  'em  before  she  was  married." 

Thus  equipped,  I  started  for  Captain  Thompson's,  reaching 
there  just  as  the  clock  was  striking  five,  and  finding,  to  my 
e,  that  I  was  not  only  tb.e  first  arrival,  but  that  neitke* 


MEADOW    BRC*  $5 

Mrs.  Thompson  nor  'Boil  had  commenced  dressing.  Fearing 
I  had  mistaken  the  day,  I  questioned  the  servant-girl  who  an 
swered  my  ring,  and  who  assured  me  that  I  was  right,  while 
at  the  same  time  she  conducted  me  to  the  chamber  above, 
where  in  the  long  mirror  I  obtained  a  full-length  view  of  my 
self,  feet  and  all.  My  first  impulse  was  to  laugh,  my  second 
to  cry,  and  to  the  latter  I  finally  yielded.  No  one  came  near 
me;  I  heard  no  one,  saw  no  one,  until  in  light  flowing  mus 
lin,  white  silk  hose,  and  the  tiniest  of  all  tiny  French  slippers, 
Dell  Thompson  sailed  into  the  room,  starting  with  well- 
feigned  surprise  when  she  saw  me,  asking  how  long  I  had 
been  there,  and  what  was  the  matter. 

Without  considering  what  I  was  doing,  I  told  her  unre 
servedly  about  the  shoes  and  stockings,  pointing  to  my  pea 
cock  feet  as  proof  of  what  I  said.  With  all  her  faults,  there 
was  enough  of  the  woman  about  Dell  to  inspire  her  with  a 
feeling  of  pity  for  me,  and  after  forcing  back  a  laugh  she 
could  not  well  help,  she  said,  kindly,  "  Your  shoes  are  rather 
large;  but  I  think,  perhaps,  I  can'ikmedy  the  difficulty." 

At  the  same  time  she  started  to  leave  the  room.  What  new 
impulse  came  over  her,  I  never  knew;  but  sure  am  I  that 
something  changed  her  mind,  for,  when  nearly  at  the  door, 
she  suddenly  paused,  saying,  "  I  know,  though,  you  can't 
wear  my  slippers,  so  it's  of  no  use  trying  the  experiment;" 
adding,  as  she  saw  how  my  countenance  fell,  "  I  wouldn't 
mind  it  if  I  were  you.  Nobody"  11  notice  it,  unless  it  is  Doctor 
Clayton,  who,  I  believe,  admires  small  ankles  and  little  feet; 
but  you  don't  care  for  him;  he's  old  enough  to  be  your  father, 
and,  besides  that,  he  thinks  you  perfect  anyway."' 

Her  words  and  manner  annoyed  me,  and  for  a  moment  I 
debated  in  my  own  mind  the  propriety  of  leaving  at  once;  but 
I  had  not  seen  Doctor  Clayton  since  he  carried  me  home,  and 
so  I  finally  concluded  to  remain,  thinking  that  I  would  keep 
my  seat,  and  on  no  account  stir  when  he  was  looking  at  me. 
,'After  coining  to  thib  conclusion,  I  ventured  to  ask  Dell  where 
the  rest  of  the  company  were,  and  was  told  that  they  were  not 
invited  until  evening. 

"  Until  evening,"  I  repeated;  "  then  I  guess  I'll  go  before 
they  come,  for  I  shall  be  afraid  to  walk  home  alone." 

"  There's  a  good  moon,"  said  she;  adding,  "  You  must  not 
leave  on  any  account,  for  that  will  spoil  all  the — pleasure," 
she  said— -fu n  I  now  think  she  meant;  but  I  could  not  fathom 
her  then,  "and  I  nevor  dreamed  that  she  had  invited  me  there 
merely  to  show  me  up  before  her  fashionable  friends,  and 
make  light  of  me  in  the  estimation,  of  Doctor  ClavtoiL 


06  MEADOW    BROOK0 

"  Come  uown  to  the  parlor,"  she  said  at  last,  after  arrang 
ing  for  the  third  time  the  heavy  braids  of  her  black,  beautiful 
hair;  and  following  her,  I  soon  stood  in  the  presence  of  Mrs. 
!  Thompson,  a  tall,  dark,  haughty-looking  woman,  who,  half 
arising  from  the  sofa,  bowed  stiffly,  muttering  a  few  words  of 
welcome  as  Dell  introduced  me. 

Dropping  into  the  first  seat — a  large  willow  chair  near  the, 
door — 1  tried  to  act  natural,  but  I  could  not;  for  turn  which 
way  I  would,  I  felt  that  a  pair  of  large  black  eyes  were  upon 
me,  scanning  me  from  my  head  to  my  feet;  and  when  her 
linen  cambric  handkerchief  went  up  to  her  mouth,  apparently 
to  stifle  a  cough,  I  was  certain  that  it  aLso  smothered  a  laugh, 
which  I  suppose  my  rather  singular  appearance  called  forth. 
Right  glad  was  I  when  both"  the  ladies  found  an  excuse  for 
leaving  the  parlor,  though  I  did  find  it  rather  tiresome  sitting 
there  alone  until  the  shades,  pf  evening  began  to  fall. 

At  last,  when  it  was  nearly  dark,  I  ventured  out  upon  the 
long  piazza,  where  I  had  n^t  been  long,  when  a  gentleman  ca 
horseback  galloped  into  the  yard,  and  in  a  moment  I  recog 
nized  Doctor  Clayton's  voice,  as  he  gave  his  horse  to  the  keep 
ing  of  Captain  Thompson's  hired  man.  Hastily  retreating  to 
the  parlor,  I  had  just  time  to  seat  myself  in  a  corner  where  I 
thought  I  should  attract  the  least  attention,  when  he  entered 
the  room  with  Dell,  whose  hand  I  am  sure  he  held  until  he 
saw  me;  then  quickly  dropping  it,  he  advanced  to  my  side, 
greeting  me  kindly,  and  once,  when  Dell's  back  was  toward 
us,  whispering  softly,  "  I  am  so  glad  to  find  you  here.  I  was 
afraid  the  party  would  prove  a  bore." 

Just  then  we  heard  the  sound  of  fast-coming  wheels,  and  in 
a  moment  there  came  round  the  corner  a  long  open  omnibus, 
drawn  by  four  horses,  and  densely  crowded  with  young  people 
of  both  sexes,  all  seemingly  shouting  and  laughing  with  all 
their  might.  I  was  not  much  used  to  the  ways  of  the  world 
then,  and  having  been  taught  that  it  was  not  lady-like  to  be 
either  rude  or  boisterous,  I  wondered  greatly  that  well-bred 
people  should  conduct  themselves  so  badly — -a  species  of  won 
der,  by  the  way,  in  which  I  now  occasionally  indulge.  Bound' 
ing  out,  iuid  adjusting  their  light,  flowing  robes,  the  young 
ladies  went  tripping  up  the  stairs,  still  talking,  laughing,  and 
screaming  so  loudly  that  once  I  started  up,  exclaiming, 
"  Why,  what  is  the  matter?" 

With  a  peculiar  smile,  Doctor  Clayton  laid  his  hand  on  my 
Lead  in  a  very^  fatherly  way,  saying,  "  My  little  girl  hasn't  yet 
learned  that  in  orde:  ?*  W  refined  she  must  bo  rough  and 


MEADOW    BROOK. 

boisterous,  and  I  hope  she  never  will,  for  it  is  refreshing  to 
find  occasionally  something  feminine  and  natural." 

By  this  time  the  guests  were  assembled  in  the  parlor,  and 
when  I  saw  how  tastefully  they  were  dressed,  and  how  much 
at  ease  they  appeared,  I  began  to  wish  myself  anywhere  but 
there.  One  by  one  they  were  presented  to  me,  I  at  first  keep 
ing  my  seat;  but  when  Doctor  Clayton  whispered  to  me  tc 
stand  up,  I  did  so,  bending  my  knees  a  little,  so  as  to  mak{  {, 
my  dress  longer,  and  thus  partially  hide  my  feet.  But  thih 
could  not  be  done,  and  like  two  backgammon  boards  they  set 
out  at  right  angles,  with  the  wads  of  cotton  lying  up,  round 
and  hard.  The  young  ladies  had  undoubtedly  received  a  de 
scription  of  me,  for  they  inspected  me  closely,  glancing  the 
while  mischievously  at  Dell,  TOO  seemed  to  be  in  her  element; 
asking  me  if  I  were  not  tired;  telling  me  I  looked  so,  and  add 
ing,  aside,  but  loud  enough  for  Doctor  Clayton  and  myself  to 
hear,  "  I  should  think  she  would  be,  for  she'd  been  here  ever 
since  five  o'clock.  I  hadn't  even  commenced  dressing." 

"  Is  it  possible?"  said  one;  while  another  exclaimed,  "How 
green!  But  I  suppose  it's  her  first  introduction  into  society, 
and  she  knows  no  better. " 

This  conversation  was  probably  not  intended  for  me,  but  I 
heard  it  all,  and  with  much  bitterness  at  my  heart  I  turned 
away  to  hide  my  tears,  involuntarily  drawing  nearer  to  Doctor 
Clayton,  as  if  for  protection.  But  for  some  reason  or  other, 
he  did  not  appear  now  as  he  did  when  we  were  alone;  then  he 
was  all  kindness  and  attention,  while  he  now  evidently  avoid 
ed  me;  seeming  slightly  annoyed  when  any  of  his  acquaintance 
teased  him  about  me,  as  I  more  than  once  heard  them  doing. 
In  his  nature,  as  in  every  other  man's,  there  were  both  good 
and  bad  qualities,  and  they  now  seemed  warring  with  each 
other;  the  former  chiding  him  for  deserting  me  when  I  stood 
so  much  in  need  of  his  attention,  and  the  latter  shrinking 
from  anything  which  would  incur  the  ridicule  of  his  compan- 
ji>ns. 

At  last,  as  if  his  good  genius  had  conquered,  he  suddenly 
broke  away  from  a  group  of  girls,  and  crossing  over  to  where 
I  was  standing,  offered  me  his  arm,  telling  me  "  I  must  stir 
round  and  be  more  sociable." 

I  looked  down  at  my  feet;  so  did  he,  and  for  an  instant 
there  was  a  flush  on  his  face;  but  it  passed  off,  and  with  a 
word  of  encouragement,  he  led  me  toward  the  music-room, 
where  Dell  Thompson  was  unmercifully  pounding  a  five-hun 
dred-dollar  piano,  which  groaned  and  shrieked  under  the  in 
fliction,  while  the  by-standers,  who  had  insisted  upon  her  play« 


#8  MEADOW   BROOK. 

fng,  were  all  talking  together,  seemingly  intent  upon 
which  could  make  the  most  noise,  they  or  the  instrument. 

"  Do  you  play,  Miss  Lee?"  was  asked  me" by  half  a  dozen 
or  more. 

I  had  taken  lessons  two  quarters,  and  I  could  play  a  few 
Dancing  tunes,  marches,  etc.,  and  so  I  said,  whereupon  they 
insisted  upon  my  favoring  them  with  "  Money  Musk,"  as  they 
'  wanted  to  dance,  and  none  of  them  could  perform  anything 
as  old-fashioned  as  that.  I  looked  at  Doctor  Clayton,  who,  in 
a  low  tone,  asked,  "  Are  you  sure  you  can  get  through  with 
it?" 

There  was  doubt  in  the  tones  of  his  voice  which  touched  my 
pride,  and  without  deigning  him  an  answer,  I  took  my  seat, 
resolving  to  do  my  best.  The  set  was  soon  formed,  Doctor 
Clayton  dancing  with  Dell  Thompson,  who  remarked  as  he 
led  her  away,  "  I  suppose  we  shall  have  a  rare  performance." 

Something,  I  am  sure,  must  have  inspired  me,  for  never 
before  did  I  play  so  well ;  keeping  perfect  time,  and  striking 
every  note  distinctly.  My  audience  were  evidently  both  sur 
prised  and  pleased,  for  they  called  for  piece  after  piece,  until 
my  list  was  exhausted,  when  one  of  the  gentlemen,  more 
thoughtful  than  the  ladies,  suggested  the  possibility  of  my 
being  tired. 

'*  Perhaps  she  dances,  too.  Ask  her,  Bob,"  said  a  young 
lady,  while  Dell  eagerly  rejoined,  "  Oh,  yes,  do;"  but  Bob 
was  forestalled  by  Doctor  Clayton,  who  for  several  minutes 
had  stood  by  my  side,  complimenting  my  playing,  and  who 
now  asked  me  to  be  his  partner  in  the  next  cotillon,  his  cousin 
having  volunteered  to  take  my  place  at  the  piano. 

In  my  excitement  I  forgot  my  shoes,  forgot  everything,  save 
Kihat  Doctor  Clayton's  eye  was  looking  down  upon  me,  that 
»my  hand  was  resting  in  his,  and  ere  I  was  aware  of  it  I  found 
'myself  upon  the  floor.  I  was  perfectly  familiar  with  the 
changes  of  the  cotillon;  but  at  my  right  was  John  Thompson, 
who,  when  it  came  his  turn  to  swing  with  me,  refused  to  tak -. 
my  hand,  treating  me  with  such  marked  insolence  tnat  i  De- 
came  confused,  and  made  several  mistakes,  at  which  he 
laughed  contemptuously."  Besides  this,  my  big  shoes  incom 
moded  me;  and  at  last,  in  the  midst  of  the  promenade,  one  of 
them  dropped  off,  the  cotton  ball  rolled  out,  I  tripped,  lost 
my  balance,  and  after  two  or  three  headlong  plunges,  fell  flat 
at  the  feet  of  Doctor  Clayton,  who  stood  aghast  with  surprise 
and  mortification.  It  was  ludicrous  enough,  I  know;  but  1 
do  not  think  there  was  any  necessity  for  the  loud  roar  which 
was  raised  over  mymishgp;  and  burning  with  shame 


MEADOW    BROOK.  69 

vexation,  I  gathered  myself  up,  and  fled  from  the  room;  but 

not  until  I  heard  Dell  Thompson  say,  as  she  picked  up  the 
shoe  and  passed  it  to  Doctor  Clayton,  "  It  is  Mrs.  Ross's;  she 
hadn't  any  of  her  own  which  she  thought  suitable,  and  so  she 
borrowed." 

"  That  accounts  for  the  cotton  wad/'  said  John,  dealing 
said  wad  a  kick  that  sent  it  bounding  past  me. 

Rushing  up  the  stairs,  I  founc!  my  shawl  and  bonnet;  and 
then,  without  a  word  to  any  one,  started  for  home,  minus  nry 
shoe,  which  I  entirely  forgot  in  my  excitement.  I  had  scarce 
ly  got  outside  the  gate  when  the  sound  of  a  footstep  caused 
me  to  look  around,  and  I  saw  Doctor  Clayton,  his  hat  in  one 
hand  and  Mrs.  Ross's  slipper  in  the  other.  This  last  he  passed 
to  me,  and  then  without  a  word  drew  my  arm  within  his,  and 
for  a  time  we  walked  on  in  silence,  while  I  cried  as  if  my  heart 
would  break.  Coming  at  last  to  an  old  oak-tree,  under  which 
a  rude  bench  had  been  constructed,  he  bid  me  sit  down,  and 
placing  himself  by  my  side,  asked  me,  "  What  was  the  mat 
ter?" 

"  You  know  well  enough  what's  the  matter,"  I  said,  an 
grily,  struggling  to  rise;  but  his  arm  was  strong,  and  he  held 
Tie  fast,  while  he  tried  to  quiet  me,  and  in  this  he  soon  suc 
ceeded,  for  he  possessed  over  me  a  power  which  I  could  not 
resist. 

Gradually,  as  I  grew  calm,  I  told  him  all;  how  I  believed 
that  Dell  Thompson  had  invited  me  only  to  ridicule  me,  how 
she  had  asked  me  to  come  in  the  afternoon,  and  then  made 
fun  of  me  for  doing  so;  while  her  companions  called  me  green; 
and  that  in  the  absence  of  my  own  slippers  I  had  worn  those 
of  Mrs.  Ross,  thereby  meeting  with  the  worst  catastrophe  of 
rill,  to  wit,  the  falling  flat  in  the  dance. 

Here  I  broke  down  entirely  and  cried  out  aloud;  while  the 
doctor,  after  one  or  two  hearty  laughs  at  my  distress,  tried 
again  to  comfort  me,  asking  me  what  I  cared  for  Dell  Thomp 
son's  ridicule.  "  She  wasn't  worth  minding,"  he  said,  "  and 
no  one  who  knows  her  would  attach  any  importance  to  hey 
remarks." 

"  But  what  makes  her  treat  me  so?"  I  asked;  "  I  nevf,"  x 
harmed  her/ 

For  a  time  the  doctor  said  nothing;  but  the  arm,  which  all 
the  time  had  encircled  my  waist,  drew  me  still  closer  to  his 
eide,  while  he  at  last  replied,  "  She  is  jealous  of  you — jealous 
because  she  thinks  I  like  the  little  Rosa  better  than  I  do  her/* 

"  And  it's  very  foolish  in  her  to  think  so!"  I  exclaimed. 

Again  the  doctor  was  silent,  but  by  the  light  of  the 


70  MEADOW,  BROOK. 

moon  I  saw  that  there  was  a  curious  train  of  thought  passing 
through  his  mind,  but  it  did  not  manifest  itself  in  words;  for 
when  Tie  again  Lpoke,  it  was  merely  to  reply,  "  Yes,  very  fool 
ish;"  then,  after  another  pause,  he  added,  "  and  still  I  know 
of  no  reason  why  I  should  like  her  best — do  you?" 

"  Yes,"  I  answered,  quickly,  "  there  are  many  reasons. 
She  is  handsome — I  am  homely.  She  is  graceful — I  am  awk 
ward.  She  is  rich — I  am  poor." 

"  She  is  artificial — you  are  truthful/'  said  he,  interrupting 
me,  while,  without  paying  any  heed  to  this  remark,.  I  con 
tinued,  "  she  is  a  young  lady,  and  I  am  a  little  girl — only  thir 
teen." 

"  I  wish  you  were  older,  Rosa,"  said  he,  "  and  had  seen  a 
little  more  of  the  world." 

Then  followed  a  long  conversation  in  which  much  was  said, 
which  had  far  better  been  left  unsaid;  for  I  was  a  warm 
hearted,  impulsive  child,  believing  that  I  to  him  was  what  he 
tvas  to  me.  And  still  he  did  not  once  commit  himself,  nor  in 
tyhat  he  said  was  there  aught  which  could  possibly  have  been 
construed  into  an  avowal  of  anything  save  friendship,  which 
was  the  theme  upon  which  he  rang  many  a  change.  Alas, 
for  such  friendships!  They  are  dangerous  to  one's  peace  of 
mind,  particularly  if  told  beneath  an  old  oak-tree,  with  the 
silvery  moonlight  shining  down  upon  you,  and  the  soft  sum 
mer  air  gently  moving  the  green  leaves  above  your  head. 
How  long  we  sat  there  I  do  not  know;  but  I  was  the  first  to 
propose  going,  telling  him  they  would  miss  him  at  the  party, 
and  wonder  at  his  absence/ 

"  Let  them  wonder  then,"  -said  he.  "I  have  no  intention 
of  returning  to  the  house.  It  would  be  intolerable  after  this 
pleasant  chat  with  you,  so  I  shall  just  get  my  horse  and  go 
quietly  home/' 

I  did  not  then  know  that  he  had  not  sufficient  courage  to 
brave  the  jokes  and  jeers  which  he  knew  were  sure  to  greet 
him,  should  he  to  return  to  Captain  Thompson's.  Neither 
did  I  know  that  with  his  fashionable  friends  he  would  scarcely 
dare  defend  me;  nor  that  .when  John  Thompson  once,  in  his 
presence,  imitated  the  way  in  which  I  stumbled  and  fell,  he 
joined  in  the  laugh  which  followed,  saying,  though,  as  if  in 
apology,  "  that  it  was  too  bad  to  make  fun  of  me,  for  I  was 
quite  a  nice  little  girl."  . 

We  found  Mrs.  Ross  sitting  up  for  me,  sleeping  in  her 
chair,  while  the  tallow  candle  at  her  side  had  burned  and 
spluttered  away,  until  the  black,  crisped  wick  was  longer  than 
the  candle  itseit 


MEADOW    BROOK.  ?J 

Lordy  massy!  dock  %  is  that  you?"  she  exclaimed,  rub 
bing  open  her  eyes  and  hooking  up  her  dress,  which,  for  com 
fort,  she  had  loosened.  "  I  thought,  mebby,  you'd  beau 
Rosa  home.  Come  in  and  stay  a  spell?  I'd  as  lief  you'd 
spark  it  awhile  in  t'other  room  as  not." 

But  the  doctor  had  no  idea  of  doing  anything  so  marked  as 
that;  and  with  a  whispered  good-night  to  me,  and  an  audible 
one  to  Mrs.  Eoss,  he  departed;  just  as  the  good  lady  asked 
me,  loud  enough  for  him  to  hear,  "  if  Fd  dirtied  her  stock* 
ings,  lost  her  mitts,  or  broken  her  breast-pin?" 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

CLOSE  OF  SCHOOL  IK  PINE  DISTRICT. 

WHETHER  Doctor  Clayton  cared  for  me  or  not,  he  exerted 
his  influence  in  my  behalf,  plainly  telling  John  Thompson 
that  he  ought  to  be  ashamed  to  annoy  me  as  he  did ;  and  drop 
ping  a  few  hints  to  Mrs.  Thompson,  who  now  tried  to  restrain 
her  son,  so  that  after  the  party  hostilities  in  that  quarter 
nearly  ceased.  But  the  ball  was  in  motion,  and  could  not 
well  be  stopped;  for  what  the  Thompsons  now  lacked  the  rest 
of  the  district  made  up.  It  was  the  general  impression,  I  be 
lieve,  that  the  scholars  had  learned  nothing  save  a  few  pieces 
of  poetry,  and  that  I  had  done  nothing  but  whip,  scold,  and 
cry.  To  all  these  accusations  I  plead  guilty;  and  when  Mr. 
Randall  one  day  proposed  to  me  to  bring  my  labors  to  a  close, 
I  replied  that  "  nothing  could  please  me  better,"  though 
there  was  a  tremor  in  my  voice  as  I  thought  how  the  people 
of  Meadow  Brook  would  laugh.  Mr.  Randall  probably 
divined  my  thoughts,  for  he  quickly  rejoined,  "  The  "weather 
is  gettin  so  hot  that  the  youngsters  need  a  vacation.  Mebby, 
in  the  faJ,  when  it  is  cooler,  we  shall  have  you  back." 

And  so  it  was  settled  that  school  should  close  the  next  week 
?n  Saturday,  and  that  on  Friday  I  should  have  an  examina 
tion.  This,  to  a  teacher  in  Western  New  York,  may  seem 
strange;  but  those  who  have  taught  in  that  part  of  New  Eng 
land  where  I  did,  know  that  such  a  thing  can  not  well  be 
avoided.  No  matter  how  small  the  school,  or  how  inefficient 
the  teacher  may  be,  an  examination  must  be  held,  or  you  at 
once  lose  caste;  the  people  unanimously  declaring  you  to  be 
ashamed  of  showing  how  little  your  pupils  have  learned.  In 
my  case,  I  was  rather  anxious  tnan  otherwise  for  an  oppor 
tunity  to  show  off;  for  I  was  sure  nV  scholars  would  acquit 
themselves  creditably.  I  well  knew  Uey  could  stand  up  and 
repeat  "  verses,"  the  Multiplication  TJble,  the  names  oi:  th* 


78  MEADOW    BROOK. 

fourteen  counties  of  Massachusetts,  and  tell  who  made  them, 
and  where  the  sun  rose,  louder  and  faster  than  any  other  sev 
enteen  children  in  town.  I  confidently  expected  all  the  par 
ents  and  friends  to  be  there,  and  as  my  own  wardrobe  was 
rather  scanty,  I  coaxed  my  sister  Anna,  who,  though  several 
years  my  senior,  was  still  not  much  taller  than  myself,  to  let 
me  wear  her  new  black  silk. 

It  was  my  first  appearance  in  a  long  dress,  and  it  troubled 
me  greatly;  but  by  dint  of  holding  it  up,  as  ladies  do  nowa 
days,  I  succeeded  in  getting  to  the  school-house,  where  I  found 
my  pupils  arrayed  in  their  best;  Ike  Ross  having  in  his  shirt 
bosom  the  self -same  glass  breast-pin  which  I  had  sported  at 
Dell  Thompson's  party.  Not  wishing  the  spectators  to  lose 
any  of  the  exercises,  I  sat  in  grim  silence,  awaiting  their  ar 
rival;  but  my  waiting  was  all  in  vain;  for,  with  the  exception 
of  Mrs.  Randall  and  Doctor  Clayton,  the  latter  of  whom  came 
in  the  capacity  of  inspector,  not  a  single  individual  was  pres 
ent.  Not  a  parent,  not  a  friend,  nor  a  foe,  and  still,  if  the 
examination  had  not  been  held,  those  who  stayed  away  would 
have  ridiculed  me,  and  voted  my  school  even  a  worse  failure 
than  they  did.  So  much  for  consistency.  Parents,  I  think, 
are  not  sufficiently  aware  of  the  great  good  their  occasional 
presence  in  the  school-room  will  do,  both  to  teacher  and 
scholar;  the  latter  of  whom  will  almost  invariably  study 
harder  and  strive  to  have  better  lessons,  if  there  is  a  prospect 
of  their  father  or  mother's  hearing  them  recite;  while  the 
former,  feeling  that  an  interest  is  taken  in  them,  will  also  be 
incited  to  fresh  efforts  for  the  improvement  of  those  com 
mitted  to  their  charge. 

But  not  thus  thought  the  people  of  Pine  Hill.  Satisfied 
that  an  examination  was  going  on,  they  stayed  at  home,  ex 
pressing  their  surprise  when  they  heard  that  nobody  was  there, 
wondering  what  it  meant,  and  saying  "  folks  ought  to  be 
ashamed  for  not  going!"  As  if  to  make  amends  for  their 
neglect,  Doctor  Clayton,  in  his  closing  remarks,  said  some 
very  complimentary  things  concerning  my  school,  which  he 
bid  the  children  repeat  to  their  parents;  and  such  is  human 
nature,  that,  when  I  had  received  my  eight  dollars,  and  was 
gone,  the  district,  in  speaking  of  me,  said  "  I  wasn't  the 
worst  teacher,  after  all." 

About  four  o'clock  there  came  up  a  thunder-shower,  which 
caused  both  Mrs.  Randall  and  the  scholars  to  hasten  home. 
Doctor  Clayton,  on  the  contrary,  was  in  no  hurry.  "  It  was, 
perhaps,  the  last  opportunity  he  would  have  of  seeing  me/f 
he  said.  "  and  he  meant  to  improve  it." 


BfcOOfc.  t3 

It  was  not  very  far  to  Meadow  Brook,  I  thought,  and  so  I  at 

last  ve.i:  cured  to  say. 

"  I  know  that,"  he  replied;  "  hut  people  might  talk  were 
I  to  call  on  you,  and  I  do  not  wish  to  do  anything  which  will 
affect  you  unpleasantly." 

"  I  don't  care  what  folks  say/'  arose  to  my  lips,  but  its  ut 
terance  was  prevented  by  a  flash  of  lightning  and  a  thunder 
crash,  which  made  me  shriek  aloud,  while  I  covered  my  face 
with  my  hands. 

I  shall  not  describe  the  way  which  Doctor  Clayton  took  to 
calm  my  fright,  for  all  who  have  passed  through  a  similar  ex 
perience  can  imagine  it;  but  the  remembrance  of  that  thun 
der-storm  lingered  in  my  memory  long  after  I  had  forgotten 
the  night  when  I  sat  with  him  in  the  soft  moonlight  beneath 
the  old  oak-tree.  When  the  storm  had  ceased  and  the  sun 
was  again  shining  on  the  tree-tops  at  the  west,  he  left  me, 
placing  on  my  hand  at  parting  a  little  gold  ring,  on  which 
was  inscribed  simply  "  Rosa." 

"  It  was  the  gift  of  friendship,"  he  said,  "  nothing  more;" 
and  he  wished  me  to  wear  it  "  for  the  sake  of  the  few  pleasant 
hours  we  had  spent  together." 

I  suppose  it  was  wrong  in  me  to  accept  it.  I  thought  so 
then,  but  I  could  not  refuse  it;  and  remembering  the  fate  of 
the  one  sent  by  Herbert  Langley  to  Anna,  I  resolved  upon 
keeping  it  a  secret,  and  only  wearing  it  when  I  was  alone. 
For  a  long  time  I  sat  in  the  deserted  school-room,  while  the 
damp  air,  which  came  through  the  open  window,  fell  upon 
my  uncovered  neck  and  arms,  nor  was  I  reminded  of  the 
lapse  of  time  until  it  began  to  grow  dark  around  me;  then 
hastily  throwing  on  my  things,  I  started  for  Mr.  Randall's, 
wetting  my  feet,  for  I  had  no  rubbers  with  Ine.  As  the  result 
of  this,  when  I  awoke  next  morning  I  was  conscious  of  a  pain 
in  my  head,  a  soreness  in  my  throat,  and  an  aching  of  my 
back,  quite  as  unexpected  as  it  was  disagreeable.  I  had  taken 
a  violent  cold,  and  Mrs.  Randall,  when  she  saw  how  pale  I  was 
and  how  faint  I  appeared,  said  I  must  not  go  to  school, 
George,  she  said,  would  go  and  tell  the  scholars,  and  I  must 
stay  there  until  my  father  came  for  me  at  night,  as  had  been 
arranged  the  week  before.  To  this  plan  I  finally  yielded,  and 
all  the  'lay  long  I  hovered  over  the  fire  which,  in  the  little 
sitting-room,  was  kindled  for  my  comfort. 

At  night,  when  my  father  came  for  me,  I  was  almost  too 
tteak  to  stand  alone;  but  the  excitement  of  riding  imparted  to 
me  an  artificial  strength,  which  wholly  deserted  m«  the  mo 
ment  I  reached  home,  and  for  many  days  I  keztf  my  bed,  at 


H  MEADOW    B&OOR. 

tended  by  Doctor  Clayton,  who  accidentally  heard  oi  my  ill 
ness,  and  who  came  daily  to  see  me.  Grandma,  who  wa2 
something  of  a  nurse,  proposed  several  times  that  he  be  dis 
missed,  saying  he  only  made  me  worse,  for  I  was  always  more 
feverish  and  restless  after  one  of  his  visits.  But  the  doctor, 
to  whom  she  one  day  made  the  suggestion,  said  he  should  not 
leave  me  until  I  was  well,  and  when  she  asked  him  how  b 
accounted  for  my  rapid  pulse  and  flushed  cheeks,  wheneve- 
he  was  present,  he  very  gravely  replied  that  "  possibly  my 
heart  might  be  affected — the  symptom  seemed  much  like  it," 
adding,  as  he  saw  the  look  of  concern  on  grandma's  face, 
'*  but  I  think  I  can  cure  that,  don't  you,  Rosa?"  turning  to 
me,  and  taking  my  hand  to  see  how  fast  my  pulse  did  beat. 

Aiter  this,  grandma  made  no  further  objections  to  his 
visits.  "  If  Rosa  had  the  heart  disease,  and  he  could  cure  it, 
ne  ought  to  do  so." 

But  alas!  for  the  heart  disease  which  feeds  upon  the  smile 
of  one  who,  when  sure  that  he  holds  it  in  his  grasp,  casts  it 
from  him,  as  children  do  a  long-coveted  toy  of  which  they 
have  grown  weary. 

CHAPTER  IX. 

PRO    AND    CON. 

ON  a  pleasant  May  morning  in  the  spring  succeeding  the 
events  narrated  in  the  last  chapter,  the  door  of  Doctor  Clay-    j 
ton's  office  was  locked  against  all  intruders.     The  shutters 
were  closed;  while  within,  with  his  feet  upon  a  table  and  his    i 
hands  clasped  over  his  head,  the  doctor  himself  was  revolving    i 
the  all-important  question — whether  it  were  better  to  offer    ; 
himself  at  once  to  Dell  Thompson  "  and  have  it  done  with," 
oi1  to  wait  a  few  years  for  a  little  girl  who  had  recently  crossed   ; 
his  pathway,  leaving  on  his  memory  footprints  he  could  not   ' 
'easily  efface.     For  the  benefit  of  any  young  men  who  may  be 
similarly  situated,  we  give  a  portion  of  his  reasoning,  as  fol-    ' 
lows: 

"  Now,  I  am  as  positive  as  a  man  need  be  that  I  can  have 
either  of  them  for  the  asking;  therefore,  in  a  case  which  in 
volves  the  happiness  of  one's  whole  life,  it  behooves  me  to  : 
consider  the  matter  well.  To  be  sure,  if  I  follow  the  bent  of 
my  inclination,  I  am  decided  at  once;  but  then,  marriages  of 
convenience  sometimes  prove  just  as  pleasant  as  those  of  pure 
love,  and  so  I'll  go  over  the  pros  and  cons  of  both,  de 
ciding  upon  the  one  which  has  the  most  of  the  former. 

"First,  then,  there's  Ross  a  most  beautiful  name.     Only 

""  ?$  'fjiti 


MEADOW    BROOK.  75 

think  how  refreshing  it  Tould  be,  after  riding  ten  or  twelve 
miles,  visiting  Farmer  3!ubbs  or  Widow  Grubbs,  to  know 
there  was  a  Rosa  watching  for  your  return!  Yes,  her  name 
is  in  her  favor." 

Here  the  hands  came  down  from  the  head,  and  wrote  one 
pro  agt.mst  the  name  of  Rosa,  after  which  they  resume  their 
former  position,  and  the  doctor  goes  on  with  his  soliloquy: 

"  She  is  frank,  artless,  unassuming,  means  what  she  says— 
in  short,  she  is  perfectly  natural,  and  I  always  feel  refreshed 
after  a  talk  with  her."  (Makes  pro  No.  2.)  "  Then  she  Ls 
so  wholly  unselfish  in  her  affection  for  me — loves  me  so  devot- 
sdly — sees  no  fault  in  me  whatever — thinks  me  handsome,  I 
dare  say,  and  all  that." 

Here  glancing  at  himself  in  a  little  mirror  opposite,  and 
smoothing  his  shining  mustache,  the  doctor  waxes  eloquent  on 
said  Rosa's  supposed  admiration  for  him,  writing  down,  in  the 
heat  of  his  excitement,  two  pros,  making  in  all  four.  Verily, 
Rosa  Lee,  your  prospect  of  becoming  Mrs.  Doctor  Clayton  is 
brightening  fast.  But  to  proceed: 

"  She  is  smart,  intelligent,  talented,  writes  poetry — and, 
with  proper  training,  would  perhaps  make  a  distinguished 
writer.  Were  I  sure  on  this  point,  1  should  not  hesitate;  but 
you  can't  tell  what  these  precocious  children  will  make:  fre 
quently  they  come  to  a  standstill." 

And  here,  to  make  the  matter  sure,  he  writes  against  her 
name  one  pro  for  what  she  possibly  may  be,  and  one  con  for 
what  she  probably  will  not  be. 

"  Then  I  love  her  better  than  anything  else  in  the  known 
world — I  do,  that's  a  fact;  but  she's  young — only  fourteen— 
And  before  she's  old  enough  to  marry  she  may  change  forty 
times,  and  that  would  kill  me  dead." 

Puts  down  one  pro  for  his  own  love,  and  one  con  for  Rosa's 
possible  inconstancy. 

'  *  But  she  is  poor — or,  her  father,  they  say,  is  worth  o'xly7 
ibout  five  thousand  dollars.  He  already  has  nine  children, 
and  there's  time  enough  for  three  or  four  more.  Thirteen 
into  five  thousand  makes — long  division,  a  rule  I  never  fan 
cied.  Too  poor  altogether!" 

And  against  Rosa's  name  there  is  con  No.  2,  long  and 
black,  with  the  shadow  of  her  four  unborn  brothers,  who,  by 
the  way,  never  came  in  for  a  share  of  the  five  thousand  dol 
lars. 

"  Then  her  family  connections,  I  do  not  suppose,  are  such 
as  would  add  anything  to  my  influence.  Good,  respectable 
people,  no  doubt,  but  nob  known  in  the  world  like  the  Hun- 


ffl  MEADAW    BKOO&. 

gerfords,  Dell  Thompson's  maternal  relatives.  To  be  sure,  t 
once  heard  Rosa  speak  of  an  uncle  who  resides  in  Boston,  bub 
I  dared  say  he's  some  grocer  or  mechanic,  living  en  a  back 
street;  while  Dell's  uncle,  from  the  same  city,  must  be  a  man 
of  wealth  and  importance,  judging  by  the  figure  his  wife  cuts 
when  she  visits  the  captain." 

Here  Dell  received  a  pro  for  the  Hungerford  blood  flowing 
;n  her  veins,  while  Rosa  had  a  con  for  the  want  of  said  Hun 
gerforcl  blood. 

"  Dell,  too,  has  ten  thousand  dollars  of  her  own,  or,  rather; 
will  have  when  her  grandmother  dies;  and  there  are  not  many 
young  men  who  can  jump  into  that  fortune  every  day.  Yes, 
ten  thousand  dollars  is  a  decided  temptation." 

And  lest  Rosa,  who  already  numbered  six,  should  come  not 
In  the  majority,  three  long  marks  were  put  down  against  the 
ten  thousand  dollars  to  be  inherited  at  the  death  of  a  grand 
mother  whose  name  Dell  bore. 

"  Then  Dell  has  an  air  which  shows  at  once  what  she  is, 
and  no  man  need  be  ashamed  of  her  in  any  place."  (Mark 
Mo.  5.)  "  Then,  again,  she's  handsome — decidedly  so — such 
beautiful  eyes!  such  small  feet!  and  curls!" 

Here  a  vague  remembrance  of  certain  long  shoes,  with  wads 
of  cotton,  versus  French  slippers  and  silken  hose,  arose  before 
the  man  of  the  world,  resulting  in  a  pro  for  the  slippers  and 
a  con  for  the  cotton ! 

"  But  Dell  is  deceitful — high-tempered — artificial — selfish 
— superficial— and  all  that!  The  other  picture  suits  me  best 
• — or  would,  were  it  not  for  the  Hungerford  blood  and  the 
ten  thousand  dollars.  Let  me  see  how  it  foots  up — six  pros 
for  Dell,  and  the  same  number  for  Rosa." 

Here  was  a  dilemma;  but  anon  he  remembered  how  awk 
wardly  the  last-mentioned  young  lady  looked  when  she  fell  at 
his  feet — and  this  decides  the  matter.  He  is  sensitive  to  ridi 
cule,  very,  and  he  could  not  endure  the  sneering  remarks 
which  an  avowed  attachment  to  her  might  call  forth  from  the 
world  of  fashion;  so  he  crosses  one  of  the  pros  which  he  had 
written  against  her  name,  when  he  thought  how  much  she  ad 
mired  him,  and  then  it  stands,  Dell,  6;  Rosa,  5. 

Thus  was  the  die  cast.  Alas!  for  the  young  girl,  who,  that 
same  spring  morning,  stole  away  to  her  accustomed  haunt,  the 
old  grape-vine,  whose  swelling  buds  were  not  an  unfit  symbo1 
of  the  bright  hopes  now  springing  in  her  glad  heart.  As  sh 
sits  there  alone,  with  the  running  brook  at  her  feet,  sh 
thinks  of  him  who  has  grown  so  strongly  into  her  love;  an 
though,  in  words,  he  has  never  said  so,  by  ten  thousand  lit' 1 


MEADOW    BROOK.  77 

nets  he  has  told  her  that  her  affection  was  returned,  and  foi 
his  sake  she  wishes  she  were  older.  He  .has  wished  so  too,  in 
her  presence,  many  ?  time;  but  as  that  can  not  be,  she  re 
solves  to  spend  the  season  of  her  childhood  in  making  herself 
what  she  Knows  he  would  wish  her  to  be,  were  she  to  share 
his  lot  in  life;  and  then,  when  the  lapse  of  years  shall  have 
ripened  her  into  womanhood,  she  thinks  how  she  can,  without 
shame,  put  her  hand  in  his,  and  go  forth  into  the  world  satis 
fied,  though  it  brought  her  naught  but  care,  if  he  were  only 
with  her. 

Alas,  for  thee,  Rosa!  A  few  miles  to  the  southward,  and 
the  same  sun  which  now  shines  softly  on  you,  looks  in  through 
a  richly  curtained  window,  and  its  golden  rays  fall  on  the 
oueenly  form  of  your  rival,  who,  with  a  look  of  exultation  on 
her  finely  cast  features,  listens  to  the  words  she  has  long  wai  t- 
sd  to  hear,  and  which  have  now  been  spoken;  while  he,  of 
whom  you  dream,  bends  gently  over  her,  his  own — his  be 
trothed!  And  still,  in  the  very  moment  of  his  triumph,  there 
comes  up  before  him  a  pale,  childish  face,  which,  with  its 
dreamy  eyes  of  blue,  looks  reproachfully  upon  him.  But 
pride  and  ambition  weave  together  a  veil  with  which  hides  the 
image  from  his  view,  bidding  him  forget  that  any  other 

save  the  peerless  Dell  e'er  stirred  the  fountain  of  his  love. 
******* 

Would  it  be  well  for  us  always  to  know  what  is  passing  in 
the  minds  of  our  friends,  whether  present  or  absent?  I  think 
not;  and  still,  could  Rosa  Lee  have  known  what  had  tran 
spired,  methmks  she  would  not  have  darted  away  so  quickly 
as  she  did,  when  told  that  Doctor  Clayton  was  coming  through 
the  gate  one  afternoon,  about  six  weeks  after  his  engagement 
with  Dell.  Why  she  ran  she  could  not  tell,  except  it  were,  a& 
her  brother  Charlie  said,  that  "  gals  always  run  off  and  spit 
on  their  hair  when  they  saw  their  beaus  coming." 

Homely  as  this  expression  is,  there  was  in  this  case  some 
^truth  in  it:  for  though  Rosa  did  not  spit  upon  her  hair,  she 
went  to  her  room  and  brushed  it.,  winding  one  or  two  of  the 
rougher  curls  about  her  finger,  then  taking  from  its  hiding- 
place  the  ring — his  gift — she  placed  it  upon  her  finger,  and 
with  heightened  color  went  down  to  greet  me  doctor,  who  had 
come  to  make  his  farewell  visit — for  four  weeks  from  that 
night  Dell  Thompson  would  be  his  wife.  Long  had  he  de 
bated  the  propriety  of  seeing  Ros?  again,  conscience  bidding 
him  leave  her  alone,  while  inclination  clamored  loudly  for  one 
more  quiet  talk  with  her,  one  more  walk  by  moonlight,  one 
more  look  into  her  childish  face.,  and  then  he  would  leave  her 


fg  MEADOW    BROOK. 

forever;  never  aga'a  suffering  a  thought  of  her  to  come  W« 

tween  him  and  the  bride  of  his  choice. 

And  for  this  purpose  he  had  come ;  but  when  he  saw  how 
joyfully  Rosa  met  him,  and  how  the  bloom  deepened  on  her 
usually  pale  cheeks,  his  heart  misgave  him,  and  for  the  first. 
time  he  began  to  realize  the  wrong  he  had  done  her.  But  it 
was  now  too  late  to  remedy  it,  he  thought;  and  as  if  bent 
upon  making  matters  still  worse,  he  asked  her  to  accompany 
him  in  a  walk  down  the  green  lane,  to  the  haunts  he  knew 
she  loved  the  best,  and  where  they  had  more  than  once  been 
-before.  Oh,  that  walk!  how  long  it  lingered  in  the  memory 
of  Rosa,  for  never  before  had  the  doctor's  manner  been  so 
marked,  or  his  words  so  kind  as  when  together  they  sat  upon 
the  moss-grown  bank,  beneath  the  spreading  vine,  while  he 
talked  to  her  of  the  past,  of  the  happiness  he  had  experienced 
in  her  society,  and  which  he  said  would  be  one  of  the  few 
green  spots,  to  which,  in  the  years  to  come,  he  should  look 
back  with  pleasure.  Then  drawing  her  so  closely  to  him  that 
her  head  almost  rested  upon  his  shoulder,  he  asked  of  her  the 
privilege  of  "  once  kissing  her  before  they  parted  " — he  did 
not  say  forever,  but  the  rustling  leaves  and  the  murmuring 
brook  whispered  it  in  her  ear  as  she  granted  his  request,  shud 
dering  the  while,  and  wondering  at  the  strangeness  of  his 
manner.  Possibly  he  had  it  in  his  mind  to  tell  her,  but  if  so, 
he  found  himself  unequal  to  the  task,  and  he  left  her  without 
a  word  of  the  coming  events,  of  which  she  had  not  the  slight 
est  suspicion. 

CHAPTER  X. 

MRS.    DOCTOR  CLAYTON. 

ALTHOUGH  Meadow  Brook  and  Pine  District  were  distant 
from  each  other  only  four  or  five  miles,  there  was  between  the 
two  neighborhoods  but  little  communication;  and  this,  added 
to  the  fact  that  Aunt  Sally  Wright  was  confined  to  her  bed, 
was  undoubtedly  the  reason  why  the  news  of  the  approaching 
nuptials  did  not  reach  us  until  the  week  before  the  time  ap 
pointed  for  them  to  take  place.  It  was  a  warm,  sultry  day  in 
July,  that  Aunt  Sally,  who  was  now  convalescent,  sent  us 
word  that  she  would  visit  us  that  afternoon,  if  it  was  perfectly 
convenient;  the  little  girl  who  brought  the  message  adding 
that  "  Miss  Wright  said -Miss  Lee  needn't  put  herself  out  an 
atom,  as  she  wasn't  a  bit  particular  what  she  ett." 

Of  course  it  was  convenient,  and  about  one  o'clock  she 
came,  talkative  and  full  of  Eews  as  ever.  I  was  suffering 


JTEABOW    BROOK.  79 

from  a  severe  headache,  which  during  the  morning  had  kept 
me  confined  to  the  bed;  but  knowing  how  much  Aunt  Sally 
would  have  to  tell,  and  feeling  curious  to  hear  it  all,  I  went 
down  to  the  sitting-room,  where  her  first  exclamation  was, 
"  Now  do  tell,  what  makes  you  look  so  down  in  the  mouth?" 

I  was  about  to  tell  her  of  my  headache,  when  she  prevented 
me  by  continuing,  "  But  law!  it's  no  wonder,  seein'  you've 
lost  the  doctor  slick  and  clean." 

A  dim  foreshadowing  of  the  truth  came  over  me;  but  with 
a  strong  effort  I  controlled  my  feelings,  and  in  a  very  indiifer* 
ent  manner  asked  her  what  she  meant. 

"  Now  I'll  give  up,"  said  she,  "  if  you  hain't  heerd  on't. 
Why,  it's  in  everybody's  mouth.  They  are  to  be  married 
next  Thursday  night,  at  nine  o'clock;  and  the  dress  is  white 
satin,  with  a  veil  that  comes  most  to  the  floor." 

"  Who  is  to  be  married?"  asked  Anna,  eagerly,  her  interest 
all  awakened  by  the  mention  of  white  satin  and  lace  veils. 

"Why,  Doctor  Clayton  and  Dell  Thompson,"  returned 
Aunt  Sally.  "  They  was  published  last  Sunday;  Andy  Slos- 
son  see  it  himself  and  told  me.  They  are  goin'  first  out  to 
York  State,  to  see  them  great  Falls,  and  then  they  are  goin' 
to  live  in  Boston,  boardin'  at  some  o'  them  big  taverns;  and 
Dell  has  got  six  bran' -new  gowns  8  -purpose  to  wear  to  break 
fast." 

Here  Aunt  Sally  paused  for  breath,  while  Anna  asked  who 
was  invited,  and  if  it  was  to  be  a  large  wedding. 

"  I  don't  know  how  large,"  said  Aunt  Sally,  "  but  it's 
pretty  likely  all  the  upper  crust'll  be  there.  /  hain't  been 
invited,  'cause  they  think  I'm  sick,  I  s'pose — but  goodness 
alive!  look  at  Rosa!"  she  continued,  pointing  toward  me, 
who,  weary  and  faint,  had  lain  my  head  upon  the  window- 
stool. 

"  She's  got  the  sick  headache,"  said  Anna,  while  Lizzie, 
with  a  delicate  tact,  for  which  in  my  heart  I  blessed  her,  came 
up  to  me,  saying,  "  I  don't  believe  you  are  able  to  sit  up;  I'd 
go  to  bed." 

Glad  of  any  excuse  to  be  alone,  I  left  the  room,  going  to 
my  chamber,  where  I  wept  myself  to  sleep.  When  I  awok« 
the  sun  had  set,  but  I  heard  the  voices  of  the  family  below, 
and  once,  when  I  thought  I  caught  the  sound  of  Doctor  Clay 
ton's  name,  I  involuntarily  stopped  my  ears  to  shut  out  the 
sound.  A  moment  after,  the  door  of  my  room  was  softly 
opened,  and  Carrie  came  stealing  in  on  tiptoe.  Learning  that 
I  was  awake,  she  advanced  toward  me,  holding  to  view  a  note, 
which  she 'said  had  been  left  there  for  mejjy  Captain  Thomp« 


80  MEADOW    BROOK. 

son's  hired  man,  and  was  an  invitation  to  the  Bedding!  It 
was  still  sufficiently  light  for  me  to  see,  and  leaning  upon  my 
elbow,  I  read  on  a  card,  that  Mrs.  Thompson  would  oe  "  at 
home  "  from  eight  to  eleven  011  the  evening  of  the  25th,  while 
in  the  corner  were  the  names  of  "  Doctor  Clayton  and  Del* 
Thompson." 

There  was  no  longer  a  shadow  of  hope — it  was  all  true,  and 
ne  had  insulted  me  with  an  invitation  to  witness  his  marriage 
with  another!  I  did  not  know  then,  as  I  afterward  did,  that 
the  invitation  was  purposely  sent  by  Dell  to  annoy  me.  For 
'  a  moment  I  forgot  my  headache  in  my  anger,  but  ere  long  it 
returned  in  all  its  force,  and  if  the  next  day  my  headache  con 
tinued  with  unabated  severity,  it  was  not  without  a  sufficient 
cause,  for  sleepless  nights  are  seldom  conducive  to  one's 
health.  Of  course  I  did  not  attend  the  wedding,  which  was 
said  to  have  been  a  brilliant  affair,  the  bride  and  the  table  •• 
looking  beautifully,  while  the  bridegroom,  it  was  rumored* 
was  pale  and  nervous,  making  the  responses  in  a  scarcely  audi 
ble  tone  of  voice. 

The  next  morning,  between  eight  and  nine  o'clock,  as  I 
was  on  my  way  to  school,  I  met  the  traveling  carriage  of  Cap 
tain  Thompson,  which  was  taking  the  newly  married  couple 
to  the  depot.  John  was  driving,  while  on  the  back  seat,  with 
his  arm  partly  around  his  bride,  was  the  doctor.  My  first^  im 
pulse  was  not  to  look  at  them,  but  this  act  pride  forbid, 'and 
very  civilly  I  returned  the  nod  of  Dell,  and  the  polite  bow  of 
the  doctor,  whose  face  turned  crimson  when  he  saw  me.  A 
moment  more,  and  a  turn  of  the  road  hid  them  from  my 
view;  then  seating  myself  upon  a  large  flat  stone  beneath  a 
tree,  where  were  the  remains  of  a  play-house  built  by  my  own 
hands  only  the  autumn  before,  I  cried  out  loud,  thinking  my 
self  the  most  wretched  of  beings,  and  wondering  if  ever  any 
one  before  had  such  trouble  as  I !  As  nearly  as  I  am  able  to 
judge,  I  was  taking  my  first  lesson  in  lovesickness;  a  kind  of 
disease  which  is  seldom  dangerous,  but,  like  the  toothache, 
very  disagreeable  while  it  lasts.  At  least  I  found  it  so,  ani 
for  weeks  I  pined  awgy  with  a  kind  of  sentimental  melan 
choly,  which  now  appears  to  me  wholly  foolish  and  ridiculous; 
for  were  I  indeed  the  wife  of  Doctor  Clayton,  instead  of  Rosa 
Lee,  this  book  would  undoubteldy  never  have  been  written; 
while  in  place  of  bending  over  the  inkstand  this  morning,  as v 
I  am  doing,  I  should  probably  have  been  engaged  in  washing, 
dressing,  scolding,  and  cuffing  three  or  four  little  Claytons,  or 
in  the  still  more  laudable  employment  of  darning  the  socks 
and  mending  the  trousers— &  thing,  by  ^he  way,  which  I  can't 


MEADOW    BKOOK.  81 

do — 01  said  little  Claytons'  sire;  who,  by  this  time,,  would, 
perhaps,  have  ceased  to  call  me  "  his  Rosa,"  bestowing  upon 
me  the  less  euphonious  title  of  "  she,"  or  "  my  woman." 

But  not  thus  did  I  reason  then.  I  only  knew  that  I  had  lost 
him,  and  was  very  unhappy.  Many  a  long  walk  I  took  alone 
in  the  shadowy  woods,  singing  to  myself  snatches  of  love 
songs,  particularly  the  one  containing  tie  following: 

"  I  have  not  loved  lightly — 

I'll  think  of  thee  yet, 
And  I'll  pray  for  thee  nightly, 
Till  life's  sun  is  set." 

Somehow,  too,  I  got  the  impression  that  my  heart  was  all 
broken  to  pieces;  and  this  fact  satisfactorily  settled,  I  began 
to  take  a  melancholy  pleasure  in  brooding  over  my  early 
death,  and  thinking  how  Doctor  Clayton  would  feel  when  he 
heard  the  sad  news.  Almost  every  week  I  was  weighed,  feel 
ing  each  time  a  good  deal  chagrined  to  find  that  I  was  not 
losing  flesh  as  fast  as  a  person  in  a  decline  would  naturally  do. 
In  this  state  of  affairs,  I  one  day  came  across  a  little  sketch  of 
Hannah  More,  in  which  her  early  disappointment  was  de- 
cribed,  and  forthwith  I  likened  myself  to  her,  and  taking 
courage  from  her  example,  I  finally  concluded  that  if  I  could 
not  have  the  doctor  I  could  at  least  write  for  the  newspapers, 
and  some  day  I  might  perhaps  be  able  to  make  a  book. 
This,  I  thought,  would  amply  atone  for  my  loss — an  opinion 
frhich  I  still  hold,  for  if  ever  I  do  see  myself  in  a  book,  and 
the  reviews  let  me  alone,  which,  in  consideration  of  all  I  have 
suffered  I  am  sure  they  will  do,  I  shall  consider  it  a  most 
fortunate  circumstance  that  DelPs  ten  thousand  dollars,  in 
prospect,  proved  a  stronger  temptation  than  my  father's  fiv* 
thousand  dollars  divided  by  thirteen. 


CHAPTER  XL 

BOSTON. 

THE  bridal-party  had  returned  from  the  Falls,  and  after, 
spending  a  week  or  moie  at  Captain  Thompson's,  the  doctoi', 
took  down  his  sign,  boxed  up  his  books,  pills,  powders,  and' 
skeleton,  which  some  called  his  "  'natomy,"  while  Dell 
packed  up  her  six  morning-gowns  with  hosts  of  other  finery, 
and  then  one  day  in  August  they  started  for  Boston ;  where 
the  doctor  hoped  for  a  wider  field  of  labor,  fully  expecting  to 
be  aid€d  by  the  powerful  influence  of  Mr.  Marshall,  his  wife's 
uncle,  whose  high  station  in  the  city  he  never  once  doubted, 


83  'MTSADOW    BROOK. 

For  this  opinion  he  had,  as  the  v^orld  goes,  some  well-founded 
reasons;  for  not  only  did  Dell  often  quote  "  my  aunt  Mar 
shall  of  Boston,"  but  the  lady  herself  also  managed  to  im 
press  the  people  of  Pine  District  with  her  superiority  over 
them,  and  her  great  Importance  at  home.  Notwithstanding 
that  she  frequently  spent  several  weeks  at  Captain  Thomp 
son's,  she  still  could  not  endure  the  countiy — "  the  people 
were  so  vulgar — 'twas  so  dull  there,  and  no  concerts,  no 
operas,  no  theaters,  no  star  actors,  no  parties,  and  more  than 
all,  no  dear,  delightful  old  Common,  with  its  shaded  walks 
"and  velvet  grass." 

Of  course  Doctor  Clayton,  in  thinking  of  her  city  home, 
fancied  to  himself  a  princely  mansion  on  Beacon  Street,  over 
looking  the  "  dear,  delightful  old  Common,"  and  it  is  scarce 
ly  more  than  natural  that  his  heart  expanded  with  some  little 
degree  of  pride,  as  he  saw  in  contemplation  the  dinner-parties, 
evening-parties,  soirees,  etc.,  which  he  confidently  expected  to 
attend  at  said  princely  mansion.  At  first  he  had  entertained 
a  faint  hope  that  he  might  possibly  board  with  his  new  uncle; 
but  this  idea  was  instantly  repelled  by  his  wife,  who  did  not 
seem  so  much  inclined  to  talk  of  her  "  city  aunt  "  as  former 
ly.  So  it  was  decided  that  they  should  for  a  time  take  rooms 
at  the  Tremont. 

It  was  a  dark,  rainy  night  when  they  arrived,  and  as  it  was 
cold  for  the  season,  their  rooms  seemed  cheerless  and  dreary, 
while,  to  crown  all,  the  bride  of  six  weeks  was  undeniably  and 
decidedly  out  of  temper;  finding  fault  with  everything,  even 
to  her  handsome  husband,  who  fidgeted  and  fussed,  brought 
her  the  bottle  of  hair-oil  instead  of  cologne,  stepped  on  her 
linen  traveling-dress  with  his  muddy  boot,  spit  in  the  grate 
instead  of  the  spit-box,  breathed  in  her  face  when  he  knew 
how  she  disliked  tobacco,  thought  of  Rosa  Lee,  and  wondered 
if  she  were  ever  cross — "  nervous,"  Dell  called  it — thought 
not,  and  almost  wished — no,  didn't  wish  anything,  but  as  an 
offset  thought  of  the  ten  thousand  dollars,  asked  Dell  how  old 
her  grandmother  was,  received  for  an  answer,  "  I  don't  know 
and  I  don't  care;"  after  which  he  went  down-stairs  and  re 
galed  himself  with  a  cigar  until  informed  that  supper  was 
ready.  Eat  all  alone,  Dell  refusing  to  go  down — found  her 
in  tears  on  returning  to  his  room,  was  told  that  she  was 
"  homesick,  and  wished  she'd  never  come."  He  began  to 
wish  p.-  too,  but  said  "  she'd  feel  better  by  and  by."  Sat  for 
an  honr  or  more  cross-legged,  listening  to  the  rain,  and  won 
dering  if  there  was  a  cure  for  nervousness;  finally  went  to  bed 
and  dreamed  of  Eosa  Lee  and  the  moonlit  night  when  they 


MEADOW    BROOK.  83 

sat  under  the  old  oak-tree,,  and  of  the  thunder-storm  when  he 
gave  her  the  little  gold  ring. 

The  next  morning  Mrs.  Doctor  Clayton  was  all  smiles,  and 
when,  with  her  handsome  eyes,  shining  hair,  and  tasteful 
wrapper,  she  descended  to  the  breakfast -room,  she  attracted 
much  attention,  and  more  than  one  asked  who  she  was  as 
they  turned  for  a  second  glance'.  Nothing  of  this  escaped  the 
doctor,  and  with  a  glow  of  pride  he  forgot  the  vexations  of 
the  night  previous,  and  gave  vent  to  a  mental  "  pshaw!"  as 
he  thought  of  his  dream;  for  well  he  knew  that  the  little 
plain-faced  Rosa  could  not  compare  with  the  splendid  woman 
at  his  side.  Breakfast  being  over,  he  ventured  to  suggest  the 
possibility  of  their  soon  receiving  a  call  from  her  aunt;  but 
Dell  hastily  replied  that  such  a  thing  was  hardly  probable,  as 
her  aunt  had  her  own  affairs  to  attend  to,  and  would  not 
trouble  herself  about  them.  The  doctor's  hands  went  into 
his  pockets,  and  his  eyes  went  over  inquiringly  to  his  wife, 
who  continued  speaking  rapidly,  as  iff.  it  were  a  painful  duty 
which  she  felt  compelled  to  perform. 

"  I  don't  know  where  you  got  the  idea  that  Uncle  Marshall 
is  such  a  great  man — not  from  me,  certainly.  But  got  it  you 
have,  and  it's  time  you  knew  the  truth.  He  is  a  good,  hon 
est  man,  I  dare  say,  and  respectable,  too;  but  he  is  not  one  of 
the  ton,  by  any  means.  Why,  he's  nothing  more  nor  less  than 
a  tailor,  and  earns  his  bread  from  day  to  day." 

"  But  his  wife,"  interrupted  the  doctor,  "  how  happens  it 
that  she  supports  so  much  style?" 

"  Oh,  that's  easily  accounted  for,"  returned  Dell.  "  They 
have  no  children — she  is  fond  01  dress,  and  spends  all  she  can 
get  for  that  purpose.  She  was  an  apprentice  girl  and  learned 
her  trade  in  my  uncle's  shop,  and  it  is  said  sometimes  helps 
him  now  when  he  is  pressed  hard." 

*'*  Why  did  you  never  tell  me  this  before?"  asked  the  doc 
tor,  his  brow  growing  thoughtful. 

"And  why  should  I  tell  you?"  answered  Dell.  "  What 
did  I  suppose  you  cared  whether  he  were  a  prince  or  a  tailor? 
You  married  me,  I  hope,  for  myself,  and  not  for  my  rela 
tions." 

The  doctor  thought  of  the  ten  thousand  dollars  just  in  time 
to  force  down  the  answer  which  sprung  to  his  lips,  and  which 
was  far  better  to  be  unuttered;  so,  in  its  place,  he  asked. 
"  Where  do  they  live?" 

1  "On  a  back  street,  some  distance  from  here,"  said  Dell; 
•dding,  that  their  house,  though  small,  was  pleasant  and  neat 
ly  furoiahed,  "  It  is  well  enough  in  the  country  to  have  a 


84  MEADOW    BROOK. 

city  aunt  on  which  to  plume  one's  self,"  she  continued,  laugh* 
>ngly;  "  but  here,  where  she  is  known,  I  do  not  intend  hav 
ing  much  intercourse  with  her,  for  a  physician  and  a  tailoj 
will,  of  course,  occupy  entirely  different  positions.  However, 
I  must  treat  her,  at  first,  with  a  show  of  politeness,  and  if  YOU 
are  so  disposed,  we'll  go  round  there  and  call  this  morning.'! 

The  doctor  made  no  objections,,  and  ere  long  they  were 

walking  over  the  stony  pavement  toward  E Street,  which, 

as  Dell  had  said,  was  rather  out  of  the  way.  The  house,' 
however,  at  which  they  stopped,  was  a  pleasant  little  cottage, 
with  a  nicely  kept  yard  in  front,  while  the  parlor,  into  which 
they  were  shown,  was  quite  tastefully  furnished.  Mrs.  Mar 
shall  herself  answered  their  ring,  appearing  greatly  surprised 
when  she  saw  them,  but  not  more  so  than  Doctor  Clayton, 
who  would  never  have  recognized  the  dashing  lady  of  Pine 
District  in  the  plain-looking  woman,  who,  in  a  cheap  calico 
wrapper,  unbrushed  hair,  and  checked  apron,  now  sat  be 
fore  him — his  aunt.  And  yet  he  could  not  help  thinking  her 
far  more  agreeable  than  he  had  ever  seen  her  before.  The 
truth  was,  that  Mrs.  Marshall  was  one  of  those  weak-minded 
women  who,  being  nothing  at  home,  strove  to  make  amends 
by  "making  believe"  abroad;  assuming  everything  in  the 
latter,  and  nothing  in  the  former  condition.  Consequently, 
she  who  in  the  country  wak  proud  and  overbearing,  affecting 
ignorance  of  the  most  trivial  matters,  was,  at  home,  a  com 
paratively  quiet,  domestic  woman ;  doing  her  own  work,  and 
aside  from  being  a  little  jealous  and  envious  of  her  more 
fortunate  neighbors,  generally  minding  her  own  business. 

After  the  first  flutter  of  meeting  the  doctor  was  over,  she 
became  herself  again,  and  set  about  entertaining  them  to  the 
best  of  her  ability,  inviting  them  to  stay  with  her  to  dinner, 
and  urging  as  an  inducement,  that  she  was  going  to  have 
"  peaches  and  cream  for  dessert."  But  Dell  rather  haughtily 
declined,  whereupon  her  aunt  asked  "  when  she  would  come 
round  and  spend  flie  day?"  saying,  "  she  must  do  so  before 
long,  or  they  might  not  be  in  that  house." 

"  Not  be  in  this  house!    Why  not?"  asked  Dell;  and  Mrs.  • 
Marshall  replied,  "  Why,  you  know,  we  have  always  rented  it 
of  Mr.  Lee,  and  he  talks  of  selling  it." 

Instantly  the  doctor  thought  of  Kosa,  and  involuntarily  re 
peated  the  name — "  Lee — Lee — " 

;.*  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Marshall.     "  He  has  a  brother  in  Meadow 
i-'vook,  whom  you  may  know." 
•    "  Is  he  wealthy?"  asked  the  doottft 


~iflEADOW    BROOfc.  85 

"Why,  ye-es,  I  suppose  so,"  said  Mrs.  Marshall,  hesitat 
ingly,  as  if  unwilling  to  admit  what  she  could  not  deny. 
"  He  lives  in  a  big  house  on  Beacon  Street — keeps  his  carriage 
— and  they  say  the  curtains  in  the  front  parlor  cost  a  thousand 
dollars,  and  there  are  only  two  windows  either." 

Here  she  cast  a  deprecating  glance  toward  her  own  very 
prettily  embroidered  muslin  curtains,  which  probably  cost 
about  a  hundredth  part  of  that  sum.  Soon  after,  the  newly 
married  pair  arose  to  go,  the  doctor  feeling,  in  spite  of  him 
self,  a  little  uncomfortable,  though  at  what  he  hardly  knew; 
for  he  would  not  acknowledge  to  himself  that  he  was  at  all 
disappointed  because  Dell's  uncle  was  a  tailor  instead  of  a 
millionaire,  or  because  Rosa's  uncle  lived  on  Beacon  Street, 
and  sported  curtains  which  cost  a  thousand  dollars.  This  did 
not  in  the  least  affect  Dell.  She  was  his  wife,  and  as  such  he 
would  love  and  cherish  her,  ministering  as  far  as  possible  to 
her  wants,  and  overlooking  the  faults  which  he  knew  she  pos 
sessed.  Thus  reasoned  his  better  nature  as  he  rode  home,  un 
conscious  that  the  object  of  his  thoughts  was  at  that  very  mo 
ment  misconstruing  his  silence  into  disappointment,  and 
writing  against  him  bitter  things  in  her  heart. 

It  was  a  peculiarity  of  Dell's  to  get  angry  when  people  least 
expected  it,  and  then  to  sulk  until  such  time  as  she  saw  fit  to 
be  gracious;  so  when  they  reached  the  Tremont,  the  doctor 
was  astonished  to  find  her  past  speaking;  neither  could  he  by 
any  amount  of  coaxing  elicit  a  word  from  her  for  more  than 
an  hour.  At  the  end  of  that  time,  however,  her  pent-up 
wrath  exploded;  and,  in  angry  tones,  she  accused  him  of  feel 
ing  sorry  that  he  had  married  her,  because  her  uncle  didn't 
prove  to  be  a  great  man  as  he  had  supposed. 

"  I  saw  it  all  in  your  face  when  we  were  in  the  omnibus," 
said  she;  "  it  is  of  no  use  for  you  to  deny  it,"  adding,  as  she 
burst  into  tears,  "  but  you  can  not  regret  your  marriage  more 
than  I  do  mine,  and  you  needn't  feel  so  smart,  either,  for 
rour  father  was  a  poor  shoemaker  in  Maine,  and  when  you 
went  to  college  you  rang  the  bell  in  part  payment  of  your 
tuition." 

This  was  a  phase  of  married  life  for  which  the  doctor  was 
wholly  unprepared,  and  during  the  first  part  of  his  wife's 
speech  he  stood  confounded;  but  by  the  time  she  had  finished, 
his  mind  was  pretty  well  made  up  to  box  her  ears.  This, 
however,  he  did  not  do,  though  he  bid  her  "  shut  up  her 
head,"  repenting  the  harsh  words  the  moment  they  were  ut 
tered,  and  having  manliness  enough  to  tell  her  so.  Winding 
his  arm  round  her,  he  talked  to  her  calmly  and  rationally 


36  MEADOW    BKOOK. 

until  she  came  out  of  her  pet,  and  agree:,  fcu  to  maxe  up.1 
This  process  we  leave  to  the  imagination  of  the  reader,  only 
suggesting  that  no  one  who  saw  the  handsome,  loving  pair, 
which  half  an  hour  after  went  down  to  dinner,  would  have 
dreamed  of  the  dark  cloud  which  had  so  recently  lowered  or 

their  matrimonial  horizon. 

******* 

Here,  wishing  the  doctor  success  in  procuring  patients,  wt 
leave  them  for  a  time,  while  we  go  back  to  Meadow  Brook, 
where  our  house  was  one  day  thrown  into  a  state  of  unusual 
excitement  by  the  arrival  of  a  letter  from  Aunt  Charlotte, 
which  contained  an  invitation  for  Anna  and  myself  to  spend 
the  remainder  of  the  autumn  and  the  whole  of  the  coming 
winter  with  her  in  the  city.  "  Rosa/'  she  wrote,  "  could  go 
to  school,  while  Anna  would  be  introduced  into  society." 

Of  course  we  were  greatly  surprised,  wondering  what  had 
come  over  pur  haughty  aunt,  who,  as  the  reader  will  recol 
lect,  once  spent  a  Thanksgiving  with  us.  She  must  have 
changed,  we  thought,  or  else  there  was  some  mistake  about 
the  invitation.  But  this  could  not  be,  for  there  it  was  in 
black  and  white,  written  evidently  in  all  sincerity,  while  add 
ed  to  it  was  a  postscript  from  Uncle  Joseph,  who  also  joined 
in  the  request.  That,  if  nothing  more,  proved  that  the  in^ 
vitation  was  genuine,  for  there  was  no  mistaking  my  uncle's 
peculiar  handwriting,  and  it  only  remained  for  us  to  decide 
whether  we  would  accept  or  not.  Anna  and  myself  sail 
k*  res,"  at  once,  and  after  a  grave  deliberation  in  grandma  "a 
room,  the  same  conclusion  was  also  reached  by  my  parents, 
who,  after  giving  us  abundance  of  good  advice — not  a  word  of 
which  /  heard,  as  I  was  wondering  if  I  should  ever  meet  the 
doctor  and  Dell — enjoined  it  upon  Anna,  first,  never  to  dance 
at  the  parties  which  she  might  sometimes  attend;  second, 
hiever  to  wear  her  dresses  indecently  low,  as  some  of  the  city 
girls  did;  and  third,  not  to  flirt  with  Herbert  Langley.  For 
this  last  injunction  they  probably  fancied  there  was  little  need, 
it  being  now  five  years  since  she  had  seen  him,  and  as  they 
knew  nothing  of  the  perfumed,  gilt-edged  notes  which  lay  hid 
den  in  her  work-box,  they  very  naturally  supposed  she  had 
forgotten  him.  I  thought  so,  too,  for  hers  was  the  last  let 
ter,  which  had  been  unanswered  for  many  months,  and  Aima^ 
i  knew,  was  far  too  proud  to  care  for  one  who  had  forgotten 
her. 

Occasionally  we  had  heard  of  him  through  others,  and  it 
v>-;is  always  the  same  story,  viz.,  thi»-t  he  was  going  down  to  a 
drunkard's  grave  as  fast  a*  daily  drams  and  weekly  jprees 


MEADOW    BROOK.  8? 

oouil  carry  him;  but  if  these  reports  produced  any  effect  upon 
Anna,  it  was  imperceptible.  She  was  now  twenty  years  of 
age,  and  was  a  fair,  delicate-looking  girl,  ^vhoni  some  called 
proud,  others  cold,  and  a  few  selfish:  but  this  last  I  deny,  for 
though  she  might  appear  so  to  strangers,  there  was  not  in  our 
whole  family,  if  I  except  brother  Charlie,  one  who  would  E 
rifice  more  of  their  own  comfort  for  that  of  another  than 
would  my  sister  Anna;  neither  was  there  one  whom  I  loved 
better,  for  though  she  was  six  years  my  senior,  she  always 
treated  me  as  one.  nearer  her  own  age,  while  I  looked  up  to 
her  as  my  oracle,  thinking  that  whatever  she  did  must  neces 
sarily  be  right. 

When  it  was  decided  that  we  were  to  go,  the  next  impor 
tant  and,  to  me,  most  delightful  task,  was  the  looking  over 
and  fixing  up  of  our  wardrobes,  which  kept  us  busy  for  some 
time.  As  Anna  was  to  go  into  society,  she  of  course  had 
nearly  all  the  new  things,  and  much  as  I  loved  her,  I  must 
confess  to  a  feeling  of  envy  when  I  saw  the  black  silk,  blue 
merino,  crimson  and  brown  delaine,  etc.,  which  were  pur 
chased  for  her,  while  I  was  put  off  with  her  old  dresses, 
"  made  over  as  good  as  new,"  but  when  I,  too,  was  presented 
with  a  blue  merino  by  Charlie,  who  was  now  a  clerk  in  one  of 
the  Meadow  Brook  stores,  all  my  bad  feelings  left  me,  and 
with  great  alacrity  I  assisted  in  the  preparations. 

It  was  a  lovely 'day  late  in  October,  that  old  Sorrel  stood  at 
the  door  ready  to  convey  us  to  the  depot.  This  was  the  fir^t 
time  I  had  really  left  home,  and  when  I  saw  the  tears  in  my 
mother's  eyes,  and  the  trembling  of  grandma's  whole  body; 
when  Juliet  held  me  so  long  to  her  bosom;  when  Lizzie  and 
Carrie  stole  from  me  a  hasty  kiss,  and  then  ran  off  to  hide 
their  grief;  when  Charlie  and  John,  who  were  both  clerks, 
came  down  to  the  depot  to  bid  us  good-bye,  affeccing  to  be 
very  manly,  notwithstanding  that  their  chins  quivered;  and 
irhen,  last'  of  all,  my  father's  fervent  "  God  bless  you,  my 
children/'7  resounded' in  my  ears,  I  began  to  have  a  faint  idea 
of  the  bitterness  there  is  in  parting,  be  it  but  for  a  few- 
months.  As  we  expected,  we  found  our  uncle's  carriage  at 
the  depot  in  Boston,  and  ere  long  we  had  reached  his  house  in 
Beacon  Street. 

I  remember  the  :hrill  of  delight  which  I  experienced,  when 
first  I  entered  my  aunt  Charlotte's  stylish  house,  and  felt  that 
it  was  to  be  my  home  at  least  for  a  time.  Everything  was  in 
perfect  order,  and  for  an  instant  I  looked  around  me  in  silent 
wonder,  almost  forgetting  to  reply  to  the  greeting  of  my  aunt, 
who,  in  heavy  brocade  and  long  blue  streamers  depending 


88  MEADOW    BROOK. 

from  her  head,  mefc  rs  kindly  and  hoped  we  were  well.  She 
had  changed  since  last  I  saw  her,  but  it  was  more  the  work  of 
care  than  of  time.  She  was  much  thinner,  and  the  crow- 
tracks  around  her  eyes  were  now  decidedly  deep-cut  wrinkles, 
while  her  hair  was  here  and  there  streaked  with  more  than 
one  silver  thread. 

My  uncle  was  still  the  same  good-humored,  pleasant  man. 
a  little  afraid  of  his  wife,  it  may  be,  but  evidently  master  oi 
his  own  house.  I  glanced  around  for  Herbert,  but  he  was  not 
there,  and  when,  on  Anna's  account  more  than  my  own,  I 
asked  for  him,  I  was  told  that  he  was  down  street,  but  would 
soon  be  home.  Kinging  a  bell,  my  aunt  bid  the  girl  who  ap 
peared,  "  show  the  young  ladies  to  their  rooms,"  which  proved 
to  be  a  large  airy  chamber  with  a  bedroom,  dressing-room, 
and  closet  adjoining.  After  a  hasty  toilet  we  again  returned 
to  the  parlor,  where  we  found  a  tall,  richly  dressed  young 
man,  whom  I  should  never  have  recognized  as  Herbert  Lang- 
ley.  He  was  much  altered  from  when  I  last  saw  him;  there 
was  a  deep  flush  on  his  cheeks,  which  had  reached  even  to  his 
nose;  while  the  eyes  I  had  once  thought  so  handsome  were 
watery  and  unsteady  in  their  movement.  On  the  whole,  how 
ever,  he  was  still  what  some  would  call  good-looking.  He 
was  sitting  with  his  back  to  the  door,  but  at  the  sound  of  our 
footsteps  he  turned  around,  and  coming  toward  us,  welcomed. 
us  most  cordially  to  Boston,  calling  us  "  cousins,"  and  claim 
ing  a  cousin's  privilege  of  kissing  us — me  once,  and  Anna 
three  times,  if  not  four. 

She  was  a  little  piqued  at  his  neglect  in  answering  her  last 
letter,  and  wishing  to  show  proper  resentment,  she  drew  back 
rather  haughtily  as  if  wondering  how  he  dare  ' '  take  such  lib 
erties."  This  he  readily  perceived,  and  instantly  assuming 
an  air  quite  as  indifferent  as  her  own,  he  turned  toward  me, 
hardly  noticing  her  again,  though  it  was  easy  to  see  that  the 
reserve  of  both  was  merely  affectation.  That  evening  he  was 
gone  until  nine  o'clock,  and  when  he  entered  the  parlor,  I 
noticed  on  the  face  of  my  aunt  the  same  anxious  expression 
which  I  remembered  having  seen  there  when,  from  our  sit 
ting-room  window,  she  watched  his  return.  But  he  was  per 
fectly  sober,  and  with  a  sigh  of  relief  she  resumed  h^r  work; 
while  he,  coming  round  to  my  side,  startled  me  by  saying  that 
"  he  had  just  met  with  a  friend  of  mine — Doctor  Clayton." 

"  Where  did  you  see  him?"  asked  Anna,  while  I  bent  lower 
over  the  book  I  was  reading;  for  that  name  had  still  a  power 
to  move  me  strongly. 

;t  Why,"  answered  Herbert,  "  Tom  Wilson,  an  old  school- 


MEADOW    BROOK.  89 

mate  of  mine,  boards  at  the  Tremont,  where  he  is  now  lying 
very  sick.  All  the  old  physicians  have  given  him  up,  and  so 
he  nas  employed  this  Doctor  Clayton,  who,,  it  seems,  nas  been 
at  the  same  hotel  for  six  weeks  or  more.  I  called  on  Tom 
this  evening,  and  while  I  was  there  Doctor  Clayton  came  in. 
In  the  course  of  our  conversation  he  spoke  of  Meadow  Brook, 
and  then,  as  a^  matter  of  course,  I  said  there  were  now  in  our 
family  two  young  ladies  from  that  place.  When  I  mentioned 
Rosa's  name,  he  turned  almost  as  white  as  Tom  himself,  and 
if  she  were  not  so  young,  I  should  be  inclined  to  think  there 
was  something  between  them.  What  do  you  say,  coz?" 

Here  Anna  came  to  my  aid,  saying,  "  Why,  he's  a  married 
man,  and  his  wife  is  with  him  at  the  Tremont." 

"  The  dickens  she  is!"  said  Herbert,  looking  a  little  puz 
zled.  Then  turning  to  his  mother,  he  added,  "  Mother,  you 
ought  to  call  on  this,  Mrs.  Clayton,  for  if  she  is  an  acquaint 
ance  of  Anna  and  Kosa,  they  will  very  naturally  wish  to  see 
her  occasionally." 

"  She  needn't  call  for  me,"  said  I,  quickly. 

"  Nor  for  me,  for  I  don't  know  her,"  rejoined  Anna,  while 
vith  a  haughty  toss  of  her  head,  Aunt  Charlotte  replied,  that 
"  her  circle  pf  acquaintances  was  quite  large  enough  now,  and 
she'd  no  idea  of  extending  it  by  taking  in  people  about  whom 
she  knew  nothing." 

I  know  it  was  very  wrong  in  me,  but  I  could  not  help 
straightening  up  a  1'ttle  in  my  chair  as  I  wondered  what  the 
proud  Dell  Thompson  would  say  if  she  knew  that  the  despised 
Rosa  Lee  was  living  as  an  equal  in  a  family  which  looked  down 
upon  her  and  her  husband  as  "  nobodies. "  I  was  roused  from 
oiy  reverie  by  my  aunt's  asking  Herbert  in  a  low  tone,  "  how 
Ada  was  to-night,"  and  glancing  toward  him,  I  fancied  that 
said  Ada,  whoever  she  might  be,  was  to  him  not  a  very  pleasant 
subject  just  then,  for  his  brow  darkened  visibly,  while  he  re 
plied,  "  I  never  once  thought  to  inquire,  but  1  dare  say  she's 
£O  worse,  or  she  would  have  sent  for  you  post-hasto." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence,  and  then  my  aunt  again 
spoke.  "  Herbert,  I  wish  you'd  do  better.  You  know  how 
lonely  she  is,  and  how  she  must  necessarily  feel  your  neglect." 

"  Fudge!"  was  his  answer,  as  he  folded  his  hands  over  his 
lead,  and  leaning  back  in  his  chair,  looked  straight  into  the 
astral  lamp. 

That  night,  when  Anna  and  I  were  alone  in  our  room,  the 
former  sat  for  a  time  in  deep  thought,  saying,  when  I  at  Itst 
told  her  the  clock  was  striking  eleven,  "I  wonder  who  Ad* 


90  MEADOW    BROOK. 

/  wondered  so,  too,  and  my  interest  was  not  at  all  dimin 
ished  when  the  next  morning,  at  the  breakfast-table,  Aunt 
Charlotte  said  to  her  son,  "Herbert,  I  shall  be  busy  thii 
morning  making  arrangements  about  a  school  for  Rosa,  and  I- 
wish  you'd  go  in  and  see  Ada;  will  you?" 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  will,"  said  he,  rather  impatiently,  adding, 
;f  and  if  I  don't  find  her  any  better,  I  mean  to  assume  the  re 
sponsibility  of  discharging  that  old  superannuated  greeny  who 
attends  her,  and  install  Doctor  Clayton  in  his  place.  1  took 
quite  a  fancy  to  him,  and  I'm  going  to  give  him  my  patron 
age." 

"  Oh,  I  wish  you  would!"  I  exclaimed,  involuntarily;  for 
in  spite  of  the  wrong  he  had  done  me,  I  cherished  no  feeling 
of  animosity  toward  him. 

Then,  again,  I  had  heard  that  it  was  sometimes  very  diffi 
cult  for  a  young  physician  to  obtain  much  practice  in  a  strange 
place  with  no  one  to  help  him,  and  I  thought,  perhaps,  Her 
bert's  "  patronage  "  might  be  of  some  avail. 

"  I  see,"  said  Herbert,  laughingly,  "  there  has  been  some 
thing,  and  though  he  is  a  married  man,  you  still  feel  an  inter 
est  in  him,  and  want  him  to  succeed;  all  right,  and  I'll  do 
what  I  can  to  help  him;  for  I  verily  believe  he'll  get  Tom  on 
his  legs  again  in  spite  of  what  the  temperance  folks  say  about 
his  blood's  being  all  turned  into  whisky!" 

At  these  words  a  shadow  passed  over  Aunt  Charlotte's  face, 
tmt  it  was  soon  chased  away  by  the  next  remark  of  Herbert, 
which  was,  "  Ain't  you  glad,  mother,  I  reformed  before  I  got 
to  be  as  bad  as  Tom?  Why,  girls  " — addressing  Anna  and 
me — "  I  haven't  drunk  a  drop  since — since — how  long  is  it, 
mother,  since  I  left  off  " — "  drinking  "  he  could  not  say,  so 
he  finally  added,  "  left  off  imbibing  occasionally?" 

There  was  a  look  of  happiness  on  that  mother's  face,  as  she 
replied,  "  Almost  a  year." 

\es,  'twas  almost  a  year  since  her  son  had  tasted  ardent 
spirits,  and  had  she  not  good  reasons  for  thinking  he  would 
never  fall  again?  Assured  of  this  fact,  how  proud  she  would 
have  been  of  her  only  boy;  for,  aside  from  this  great  error, 
he  possessed  many  noble,  generous  qualities;  and  during  my 
stay  in  Boston,  I  found  that,  in  spite  of  his  well-known  habits, 
he  was  a  pretty  general  favorite.  Oh,  how  lovingly  my  aunt 
looked  after  him  when  he  went  out,  and  how  earnestly  she 
watched  him  when  he  came  in,  and  all  the  while  she  wan 
tempting  him  beyond  what  most  men  could  bear;  for  regu 
larly  on  her  dinner-table  appeared  either  porter,  champagne,  or 
madeira,  one  taste  of  which  would  set  turn  all  on  fire.  But, 


MEADOW    BKOOK.  31 

nnforttmately,  she  belonged  to  that  class  of  fasnionaDle  peo 
ple  who  deem  the  wine-bottle  a  necessary  appendage  to  the 
dinner-table,  and  if,  in  the  sequel,  her  son  should  fill  a  drunk 
ard's  grave,  would  there  be  any  just  cause  why,  in  her  an 
guish,  she  should  m.urmur  at  Providence  for  having  dealt  with 
her  thus  harshly?  Ought  she  not  rather  to  blame  herself  for 
having  thus  daily  tempted  him  to  sin  by  placing  before  him 
what  she  well  knew  was  sure  to  work  his  ruin? 

But  to  our  story.  We  were  at  dinner  when  Herbert  came 
in  from  his  morning  ramble,  and  taking  his  accustomed  seat 
'at  the  table,  he  said  to  his  mother,  "  I  called  on  Ada  as  you 
desired,  and  found  her  sitting  up  in  a  rose-colored  dressing- 
gown,  which  she  thinks  very  becoming  to  her,  I  know,  for  she 
sat  directly  opposite  the  mirror,  and  I  should  not  dare  tell 
how  many  times  I  caught  her  casting  admiring  glances  at  her* 
self." 

Aunt  Charlotte  frowned,  while  Herbert,  turning  to  me, 
continued,  "  Miss  Montrose  is  so  much  better  that  I  don't  be 
lieve  I  can  patronize  your  doctor  in  that  quarter,  but  I'll  do 
something  for  him — break  my  leg,  may  be,  or  have  the  delir 
ium  tremens." 

This  species  of  jesting  seemed  to  be  a  kind  of  mania  with 
Herbert,  for  almost  every  day  of  his  life  he  referred  to  his 
former  habit  of  drinking,  greatly  to  the  annoyance  of  his 
mother,  who,  on  the  occasion  just  mentioned,  turned  slightly 
pale,  while  Anna  looked  down  upon  the  carpet  and  sighed. 
Thinking  this  as  favorable  an  opportunity  for  making  in 
quiries  concerning  Ada  Montrose  as  I  should  have,  I  asked 
Herbert  who  she  was.  His  mother's  lips  moved  as  if  she 
would  answer  the  question,  but  ere  she  could  speak,  Herbert 
replied,  "  She's  a  Georgia  lady,  a  great  coquette,  who  is 
spending  the  winter  here  with  a  fortieth  cousm.  Some  call 
her  handsome,  and  I  believe  mother  thinks  her  beautiful;  but 
if  Anna  paid  as  much  attention  to  her  toilet  and  dressed  as 
elegantly  as  Ada  Montrose,  she  would,  in  my  opinion,  look  far 
better." 

'Twas  the  first  compliment  he  had  paid  Anna  since  our  ar 
rival,  and  it  brought  a  bright  flush  to  her  usually  marble 
cheek;  for  Herbert  Larigley  possessed  a  strange  power  over 
my  sister,  which  she  did  not  try  to  resist.  I  fancied  that  my 
aunt  was  not  quite  pleased  with  Herbert's  comparing  Miss 
Montrose  to  Anna,  but  ere  she  could  frame  any  answer  he 
asked  us  if  we  would  like  to  attend  the  theater  that  evening* 
-Notwithstanding  my  father's  hostility  to  circuses,  I  did  not 
remember  having  heard  him  sav  much  against  theaters,  and 


93  MEADOW 

so  I  answered,  quickly,  "  Oh,  yes,  Anna,,  let's  go  I  want  to 
see  what  they  do." 

And  so,  with  my  aunt's  permission,  it  was  settled  that  we 
should  go,  and  at  the  usual  hour  I  found  myself  in  the  Na 
tional  Theater,  which  was  densely  crowded,  for  %a  celebrated 
actress  appeared  that  night  for  the  last  time  in  Boston.  Per 
fectly  bewildered,  I  followed  Herbert  and  Anna  to  my  uncle's 
box,  which  commanded  a  fine  view  of  the  stage,  and  then, 
when  I  became  a  little  accustomed  to  the  glare  of  lights  and, 
the  hum  of  voices,  which  in  some  degree  reminded  me  of  that 
never-to-be-forgotten  circus  of  Cousin  Will's  memory,  I  vent 
ured  to  look  over  the  sea  of  faces,  half  starting  from  my  seat 
as  I  recognized  among  the  crowd  Doctor  Clayton  and  his  wife, 
the  latter  appearing  to  be  looking  at  us  through  what  I 
thought  resembled  the  dice-boxes  of  a  backgammon  board  tied 
together,  but  which  I  soon  learned  was  an  opera-glass.  The 
doctor  was  paler  and  thinner  than  when  I  last  saw  him,  and 
it  was  with  more  than  one  pang  that  I  watched  him  as,  from 
time  to  time,  he  cast  a  glance  of  pride  at  the  splendid-looking 
woman  at  his  side,  who  attracted  considerable  attention,  and 
at  whom,  in  the  course  of  the  evening,  more  than  one  glass 
was  leveled. 

Ere  long  my  attention  was  diverted  from  them  to  a  tal£, 
dark,  and  rather  peculiar-looking  gentleman  who  entered  the 
box  at  our  right.  Sinking  into  a  seat,  he  abandond  himself 
apparently  to  his  own  thoughts,  which  could  not  have  been 
very  pleasant;  for  his  forehead,  which  was  high  and  white, 
seemed  at  times  to  be  one  mass  of  wrinkles,  while  his  eyes, 
large,  black,  and  deep-set  in  his  head,  alternately  flashed  with 
anger  and  vexation.  I  am  not  much  of  a  physiognomist,  but 
there  was  in  the  face  of  the  stranger  something  which  at  once 
attracted  and  riveted  my  attention.  He  was  not  handsome, 
like  Doctor  Clayton — nay,  I  am  not  sure  but  many  would  call 
his  ugly,  but  I  did  not;  and,  somehow,  I  felt  certain  that  no 
girl  of  fourteen  had  ever  wept  over  his  fickleness,  for  he 
looked  the  soul  of  honor  and  integrity.  Gradually,  too,  as 
the  play  proceeded,  the  expression  which  I  had  at  first  ob 
served  passed  away;  his  dark  eyes  lighted  up;  and  when,  a* 
last,  a  bright  smile  broke  over  his  face,  I  pronounced  him  far 
better  looking  than  the  doctor,  who  was  fast  losing  ground  in 
my  good  opinion. 

The  play  was  the  "  Lady  of  Lyons,"  and  though  I  was 
familiar  with  the  story,  I  seemed  now  to  hear  it  for  the  first 
time;  so  fully  did  I  enter  into  the  feelings  of  the  heroine,  Pau 
line,  whose  distress  I  could  not  believe  was  feigned.  All  was 


ilEADOW    BROOK.  08 

real  to  me ;  and  I  can  now  scarcely  repress  a  smile  as  I  recall 
to  mind  how  I  must  have  looked,  standing  there  with  flushed 
cheeks,  clasped  hands,  staring  eyes,  and  lips  slightly  apart, 
drinking  in  every  word  of  the  actress.  Once  Anna  pulled  my 
dress,  whispering  to  me,  "  Do  sit  down,  Rosa;  they  are  all 
x /ooking  at  you,  and  Mrs.  Clayton  is  laughing  and  pointing 
you  out  to  her  husband." 

I  didn't  care  for  Dell  Thompson,  or  the  doctor  either,  and 
'so  1  said,  while  at  the  same  time  I  glanced  toward  the  stran 
ger  whose  eyes  were  fixed  upon  me  with  an  expression  I  could 
not  fathom. 

He  was  not  making  fun  of  me,  I  was  sure  of  that;  but  as 
if  there  were  a  magnetic  influence  in  his  look,  which  I  could 
not  resist,  I  dropped  into  my  seat,  and  remained  motionless 
until  the  closing  scene,  where,  with  a  piercing  shriek,  Pauline 
rushed  into  the  arms  of  her  husband.  Then  there  came  over 
me  the  same  sensation  which  I  had  experienced  years  before 
in  the  old  school-house  at  Meadow  Brook.  Everything  grew 
dark  around  me,  and  with  a  faint  cry  I  fell  across  Anna's  lap. 
I  was  not  entirely  unconscious,  for  I  have  a  dim  remembrance 
of  being  led  from  the  heated  room,  the  close  atmosphere  of 
which  had  probably  helped  to  bring  on  my  faintness.  The 
cool  air  outside  revived  me  in  a  measure,  but  it  was  the  mes 
meric  touch  of  two  large,  warm  hands  which  fully  restored  to 
me  my  faculties,  and,  looking  up,  I  saw  bending  over  me  the 
gentleman  in  whom  I  had  been  so  much  interested.  Doctor 
Clayton,  too,  was  there,  looking  worried  and  anxious,  but  in 
stinctively  leaving  me  to  the  care  of  the  stranger,  who  seemed 
to  know  exactly  what  to  do. 

"  You  are  better  now,  I  thhiK,"  sai\i  he,  gazing  down  upon 
me  with  his  deep  black  eyes,  and  adding,  with  the  same 

peculiar  smile  I  had  before  obsfcived,  "  Miss 's  acting  sel- 

vdom  receives  so  genuine  a  compliment  as  this.     I  imagine  she 
Ought  to  feel  flattered." 

At  this  moment  a  loud.  Damping  and  hallooing  came  to  my 
ear,  and,  pullingf  Anna's  anawl,  Herbert  exclaimed,  "  Come; 
let's  go  in  again;  they  ar/3  calling  back  the  dancing  giil,  and 
I  wouldn't  miss  it  for  Anything.  Come,  Rosa;  you  want  to 
see  it  all,  and  we'll  stanti  right  by  the  door." 

I  felt  perfectly  well,  and  started  to  follow  him,  when  some 
thing  in  the  stranger's  face  arrested  me,  for  it  seemed  to  say, 
"  I  wouldn't  go."  But  he  did  not  speak,  and  bowing  to  me 
very  politely,  he  walked  away,  while  I  went  after  Herbert  and 
Anna,  reaching  them  just  in  time  to  witness  a  part  of  Made 
moiselle  Lisette's  dance,  whidh  seemed  to  me  a  good  deal  like 


•4  MEADOW    BROOK. 

the  performance  of  the  circus  girl,  only  "  a  little  more  so;'* 
and  I  felt  certain  that  Cousin  Will,  had  he  been  there,  would 
have  pronounced  her  superior  even  to  the  boasted  Albany  girl. 

When  at  last  it  was  over,  and  we  were  again  leaving  the 
room,  Doctor  Clayton,  as  if  seeing  me  for  the  first  time, 
offered  me  his  hand,  and  in  a  low  tone  expressed  to  me  hii 
pleasure  that  I  was  to  be  in  the  city  during  the  winter;  add 
ing,  as  he  cast  a  furtive  glance  toward  his  wife,  "  You'll  come 
and  see  me  often,  won't  you;  for  I  am  very  lonely?" 

For  an  instant  I  felt  a  thrill  of  pride,  to  know  that  there 
was  yet  aught  in  me  which  could  interest  him,  but  'twas  only 
for  a  moment,  and  then  there  came  up  before  me  thoughts  of 
the  stranger,  and  owing  to  some  unknown  influence,  which  I 
shall  not  attempt  to  explain,  the  doctor's  power  over  me  was 
from  that  moment  at  an  end;  and  though  I  still  liked  him,  it 
was  as  I  would  like  any  friend  who  evinced  a  regard  for  me. 

Of  the  stranger  I  often  thought,  wondering  who  he  was  and 
whence  he  came;  but  no  one  knew,  and  all  that  I  could  learn 
was,  that  Herbert  saw  him  the  next  morning  standing  on  the 
steps  of  the  Eevere  House,  and  chancing  the  same  afternoon 
to  be  at  the  Worcester  depot,  he  saw  him  enter  the  cars  bound 
for  Albany,  and  heard  from  one  of  the  by-standers  that  he  was 
a  Georgian,  and  had  probably  came  to  Boston  after  "  a  run 
away  nigger!"  Being  a  true-born  daughter  of  freedom-loving 
Massachusetts,  this  intelligence  of  course  had  the  effect  of  cool 
ing  my  ardor  somewhat,  and  wishing  in  my  heart  that  every 
one  of  his  negroes  would  run  away,  I  banished  him  for  a  time 
from  my  mind. 

After  many  inquiries,  and  much  consultation  with  her  par 
ticular  friend  Mrs.  Ashley,  my  aunt  at  last  decided  to  send 

me  to  Madame 's  school;  while  Anna,  after  a  two- weeks' 

siege  with  dress-makers,  was  introduced  into  society,  where,  if 
she  was  not  a  reigning  belle,  she  was  at  least  a  favorite;  and 
mora  than  once  I  heard  the  most  flattering  compliments  be 
stowed  upon  her,  while  it  was  thought  to  be  "a  pity  that  her 
sister  was  so  plain  and  unpretending  in  her  appearance." 

CHAPTER  XII. 

ADA    MON TROSE . 

AUNT  CHARLOTTE,  Anna,  and  myself  were  sitting  in  the 
parlor  one  morning,  about  four  weeks  after  our  arrival  in  Bos 
ton,  when  the  door-bell  rang,  and  the  servant  ushered  in  a 
young  lady,  who  I  readily  guessed  was  Ada  Montrose,  for 
there  was  about  her  an  air  of  languor,  as  if  she  had  just  arisen 


MEADOW    BROOK.  95 

from  a  sick-bed.  All  doubt  on  this  point  was  soon  settled  by 
my  aunt's  exclaiming,  as  she  hastened  to  greet  her,  "  Why, 
Ada,  my  child,  this  is  a  surprise.  How  do  you  do?" 

The  voice  which  answered  was,  I  thought,  the  sweetest  and 
most  musical  I  had  ever  heard,  and  yet  there  was  in  it  some 
thing  which  made  me  involuntarily  shudder.  I  do  not  know 
that  I  believe  in  presentiments,  but  sure  I  am  that  the  mo 
ment  I  heard  the  tones  of  Ada  Montrose's  voice,  and  looked 
upon  her  face,  I  experienced  a  most  disagreeable  sensation,  as 
if,  in  some  way  or  other,  she  would  one  day  cross  my  path. 
She  was  beautiful — so  beautiful,  that  it  seemed  impossible  to 
detect  a  single  fault  either  in  her  features  or  complexion, 
though  there  was  in  the  former  an  expression  which  made  me 
feel,  when  her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  me,  much  as  the  bird 
must  when  charmed  by  the  rattlesnake.  Do  what  I  would,  I 
could  not  rid  myself  of  the  idea  that  she  was  my  evil  genius, 
though  how  in  any  way  she,  a  proud  Southern  belle,  could 
ever  affect  me,  a  plain  school-girl  of  fourteen,  was  difficult. to 
tell.  She  was,  as  I  afterward  learned,  twenty-two  years  of 
age,  but  being  rather  diminutive  in  size,  and  affecting  a  great 
deal  of  childish  simplicity,  she  passed  for  four  or  five  years 
younger;  and,  indeed,  she  herself  gave  her  age  as  eighteen — 
looking  up  to  Anna,  who  was  really  two  years  her  junior,  as  a 
very  ancient,  matronly  sort  of  person,  who  was  supposed  to 
remember  as  far  back  as  the  flood. 

Divesting  herself  of  her  warm  wrappings,  which  she  left 
upon  the  floor,  and  shaking  out  her  long  curls,  she  informed 
my  aunt  that  she  had  come  to  spend  the  day,  saying,  by  way 
of  apologizing  for  not  having  sent  her  word,  that  "  she  had 
ventured  to  come  without  an  invitation,  she  felt  herself  so  per 
fectly  at  home." 

Of  course  Aunt  Charlotte  was  delighted,  and  after  assuring 
her  of  the  fact,  she  suddenly  remembered  our  presence,  ana 
introduced  us  to  the  lady  as  "  Mr.  Lee's  nieces  from  the  coun 
try."  Not  an  instant  did  the  large  brownish-black  eyes  rest 
on  me,  for  I  was  of  little  importance  compared  with  Anna, 
who  the  Thursday  night  previous  had  made  her  first  appear 
ance  in  society,  where  her  sweet  face  and  fresh,  unstudied 
manners  had  produced  something  of  a  sensation,  which  had 
undoubtedly  reached  the  ear  of  the  reigning  belle.  What  her 
thoughts  were  as  she  scanned  my  sister  from  head  to  foot,  I 
do  not  know;  but  as  I  watched  her,  I  fancied  I  could  detect 
an  expression  of  mingled  scorn  and  surprise  that  one  so  unas 
suming  should  awaken  an  interest  in  those  who  were  accus' 
tomed  to  pay  her  homage.  When  she  had  satisfied  herself 


£6  MEADOW    BEOOK. 

with  Anna's  personal  appearance,  slie  gave  me  a  hasty  glanc*,, 
and  then  drawing  from  her  reticule  a  fanciful  mat  which  she 
was  crocheting,  she  leaned  back  among  the  soft  cushions  of 
her  chair,  and  commenced  talking  to  my  aunt  in  a  very  art 
less,  childish  manner,  never  noticing  us  in  the  least,  except 
once  when  she  asked  me  to  pull  the  bell-rope,  which  was 
much  nearer  to  her  than  me.  Several  times  I  fancied  she 
seemed  to  be  listening  for  something,  and  when  at  last  I  heard 
Herbert's  voice  in  the  hall  and  saw  the  deepening  flush  on  her 
cheek,  I  was  sure  that  she  felt  more  than  a  common  interest 
in  him. 

In  his  usual  good-natured,  off-hand  way  he  entered  the 
room,  tossing  into  my  lap  a  letter  from  my  brother  Charlie, 
and  telling  Anna  that  her  beau  hadn't  yet  written;  then,  as  his 
eye  fell  upon  Ada,  he  started  back  in  evident  surprise.  Soon 
recovering  himself,  however,  he  said,  as  he  took  the  little 
snowflake  of  a  hand,  which  she  offered  him: 

"  Why,  Ada,  who  knew  you  were  here?" 

"  Not  you,  or  you  would  have  come  sooner,  I  reckon,"  said 
she,  looking  up  in  his  face  in  a  confiding  kind  of  way,  which 
brought  a  frown  to  Anna's  brow. 

.  "  Maybe  I  shouldn't  have  come  so  soon,"  he  replied,  laugh 
ingly,  at  the  same  time  stealing  a  sidelong  glance  at  Anna. 

"  Here,  sit  right  down  by  me,"  said  Miss  Montrose,  as  she 
saw  him  looking  for  a  seat.  "  I  want  to  scold  you  for  not 
calling  on  me  of  tener  when  I  was  sick.  You  don't  know  how 
neglected  I  felt.  Why  didn't  you  come,  hey?" 

And  she  playfully  pulled  his  hair,  allowing  her  hand  to  re 
main  some  time  among  his  wavy  locks.  This  was  a  kind  of 
coquetry  entirely  new  to  me,  and  I  looked  on  in  amazement, 
while  Anna,  more  disturbed  than  she  was  willing  to  acknowl 
edge,  left  the  room.  When  she  was  gone,  Ada  said,  letting 
her  hand  fall  from  Herbert's  head  to  his  arm,  "  Tell  me,  is 
that  the  Lee  girl  who  attracted  so  much  attention  at  Mrs. 
G 's  party?" 

There  was  a  look  of  gratified  pride  on  Herbert's  face  as  he 
answered,  "  Yes — the  same — don't  you  think  her  pretty?" 

They  had  probably  forgotten  my  presence — Ada  most  cer 
tainly  had,  or  else  she  did  not  care;  for  she  replied,  "  Pretty 
enough  for  some  tastes,  I  suppose,  but  she  lacks  polish  and  re 
finement.  Is  she  at  all  related  to  you?" 

"  My  step-father's  niece,  that's  all,"  replied  Herbert,  while 
Ada  quickly  rejoined  in  a  low  tone,  "Then,  of  course,  1 
sha'u'f,  have  to  cousin  bar  *s 


MEADOW    BROOK.  9? 

*'  Probably  not,"  was  Herbert's  answer,  which  I  interpret 
ed  one  way  and  Ada  another. 

Her  next  remark  was  a  proposal  that  Herbert  should  that 
afternoon  take  her  out  to  ride;  but  to  this  he  made  some  ob 
jection;  whereupon  she  pretended  to  be  angry,  leaning  back 
on  the  sofa  and  muttering  that  "  she  didn't  believe  he  cared 
a  bit  for  her,  and  he  might  as  well  confess  it  at  once." 

Here  the  dinner-bell  rang,  and  offering  his  arm  to  the 
pouting  beauty,  Herbert  led  her  to  the  dining-room,  where 
she  was  soon  "restored  to  good  humor  by  my  aunt,  who  lav 
ished  upon  her  the  utmost  attention,  humoring  every  whim, 
and  going  so  far  as  to  prepare  for  her  four  different  cups  oi 
black  tea,  which  had  been  ordered  expressly  for  her,  and  to 
which  she  objected  us  being  too  hot,  or  too  cold — too  weak  01 
too  strong.  It  took  but  a  short  time  to  show  that  she  was  a 
spoiled  baby,  good  natured  only  when  all  the  attention  was 
lavished  upon  her,  and  when  her  wishes  were  paramount  to 
all  others. 

Dinner  being  over,  Herbert  did  not,  as  was  his  usual  cus 
tom,  return  to  the  parlor;  but  taking  his  hat,  he  went  out  into 
the  street,  in  spite  of  his  mother's  whispered  effort  to  keep 
him  at  home.  This,  of  course,  vexed  the  little  lady,  and  aftei 
thrumming  a  few  notes  upon  the  piano,  she  announced  he* 
intention  of  returning  home,  saying  that  "  she  wished  she  hao 
not  come."  At  this  moment  the  door-bell  rang,  and  somb 
young  ladies  came  in  to  call  upon  Anna.  They  seemed  sur 
prised  at  finding  Ada  tfyere,  and  after  inquiring  for  hei 
health,  one  of  them  said,  "  Do  tell  us,  Ada,  who  that  gentle 
man  was  that  came  and  went  so  slyly,  without  our  ever  see 
ing  him?  Mrs.  Cameron  says  he  was  from  Georgia,  and  thau 
is  all  we  know  about  him.  Who  was  he?" 

Ada  started,  and  turning  slightly  pale,  replied,  "  What  do 
you  mean?  I've  seen  no  gentleman  from  Georgia.  Where 
was  he?  and  when  was  he  here?" 

"  As  much  as  three  weeks  or  more  ago,"  returned  Mis? 

Marvin.     "  He  stopped  at  the  Revere  House,  and  Ms-s.  Gam' 

eron,  who  boards  there,  got  somewhat  acquainted  .with  nim.'; 

"Mrs.  Cameron!"  repeated  Ada,  turning  alterr dtely  red 

and  white.     "  And,  pray,  what  did  she  say?" 

I  fancied  there  was  a  spice  of  malice  in  Miss  Marvin's  nat 
ure;  at  leas£,  she  evidently  wished  to  annoy  A<  a,  for  she  re 
plied,  "  She  said  he  was  ugly  looking,  though  qmte  distingue  ; 
that  he  came  in  the  afternoon,  while  she  was  in  the  public 
parlor  talking  with  a  lady  about  you  and  your  engagement 
with  Mr.  Langlev." 


08  MEADOW    BROOK. 

tf  The  hateful  old  thing!"  muttered  Ada,  while  Anna 
turned  white  as  marble,  and  Miss  Marvin  continued,  "  When 
the  lady  had  gone  he  begged  pardon  for  the  liberty,  but  asked 
her  if  she  knew  you.  Of  course,  she  told  him  she  did,  and 
gave  him  any  further  information  which  she  thought  would 
please  him/' 

"  Of  course  she  did — the  meddling  widow!"  again  inter 
rupted  Ada;  after  which  Miss  Marvin  proceeded — "  Mrs. 
Cameron  didn't  mean  to  do  anything  wrong,  for  how  could 
she  guess  that  'twould  affect  him  in  any  way  to  know  you 
were  engaged?" 

"  And  she  told  him  I  was  engaged!  It  isn't  so.  I  ain't  I" 
exclaimed  Ada,  while  the  angry  tears  dropped  from  her  glit 
tering  eyes. 

"  What  does  that  mean  then?"  asked  Miss  Marvin,  laugh 
ingly,  pointing  at  the  ring  on  Ada's  finger. 

Her  first  impulse  was  to  Wrench  it  from  her  hand  and  catb 
it  from  her,  but  she  remembered  herself  in  time,  and  grow 
ing  quite  calm,  as  if  to  attribute  her  recent  agitation  to  a  dif 
ferent  cause,  she  said:  "  I  wish  people  would  attend  to  their 
own  affairs,  and  let  mine  alone.  Suppose  I  am  engaged— is 
that  a  reason  why  Mrs.  Cameron  should  discuss  the  matter 
with  strangers?  But  what  else  did  she  say?  And  where  is 
the  gentleman  now?" 

(t  Gone  home,"  answered  Miss  Marvin,  glancing  mischiev 
ously  at  her  companions.  "  He  went  the  next  morning,  and 
she  said  he  looked  very  much  disturbed,,  either  at  your  illness 
or  your  engagement — the  former  probably — and  that  is  why  I 
think  it  strange  that  he  didn't  stop  to  see  you;  though  maybe 
he  did." 

"  No,  he  didn't,"  chimed  in  Miss  Marvin's  sister,  "  for 
fton't  you  know  she  said  he  went  to  the  theater?" 

All  this  time  my  interest  in  the  unknown  Georgian  had  been 
increasing,  and  at  this  last  remark  I  forgot  myself  entirely, 
and  started  forward,  exclaiming,  "  Yes,  he  was  there;  I  saw 
him  and  spoke  with  him  too." 

The  next  moment  I  sunk  back  upon  the  ottoman,  ab^hed 
and  mortified,  while  Ada  gave  me  a  withering  glance,  and 
said,  scornfully,  "  You  spoke  to  him!  And,  pray,  what  did 
you  say?" 

An  explanation  of  what  I  said,  would,  I  knew,  oblige  me 
to  confess  the  fainting  fit,  of  which  I  was  somewhat  ashamed, 
and  so  I  made  no  rercly;  nor  was  any  expected,  I  think,  for 
Without  waiting  for  my  answer,  Ada  said  to  Miss  Marvin, 


MEADOW    BftOOK.  9ft 

;<  Mrs.  Cameron,  of  course,  learned  his  name  evea.  if  she  had 
to  ask  it  outright?" 

"  Yes,  shs  made  inquiries  of  the  clerk,  who  wouldn't  take 
the  trouble  of  looking  on  the  book,  but  said  he  believed  it  was 
Field,  or  something  like  that,"  returned  Miss  Marvin. 

As  if  uncertainty  were  now  made  sure,  Ada  turned  so  white 
that  in  some  alarm  her  young  friends  asked  what  they  should  ( 
do  for  her;  but  she  refused  their  offers  of  aid,  saying  "ifc( 
was  only  the  heat  of  the  room,  and  she  should  soon  feel  bet-' 
ter." 

"  And  is  it  the  heat  of  the  room  which  affects  yon,  Miss 
Lee?"  asked  one  of  the  girls,  observing  for  the  first  time  the 
extreme  pallor  of  Anna's  face. 

"  Only  a  headache,"  was  her  answer,  as  she  pressed  her 
hand  upon  her  forehead. 

She  was  fearfully  pale,  and  I  knew  it  was  no  common  thing 
which  had  thus  moved  her,  and  when  not  long  afterward  the 
young  ladies  left  us,  I  was  glad,  for  I  felt  that  both  she  and 
Ada  needed  to  be  alone.  The  moment  they  were  gone  Anna 
left  the  parlor,  while  I,  frightened  by  the  agonized  expression 
of  her  face,  soon  followed  her;  but  the  door  of  our  room  was 
locked,  and  it  was  in  vain  I  called  on  her  to  admit  me,  for 
she  only  answered  in  a  voice  choked  with  tears,  "  Go  away, 
Rosa;  I  would  rather  be  alone." 

So  I  left  her  and  returned  to  the  parlor,  where  I  found  Ada 
weeping  passionately,  while  my  aunt,  who  had  not  been  pres- 
»nt  during  the  conversation  which  had  so  affected  her,  was 
trying  in  vain  to  learn  the  cause  of  her  grief. 

"  Nothing  much,"  was  all  Ada  would  say,  except  that 
"  she  wanted  to  go  home." 

In  the  midst  of  our  excitement,  Herbert  came  in.  He  had 
repented  of  his  ungracious  refusal  to  ride  with  Ada,  and  now 
the  carriage  stood  at  the  door;  but  she  refused,  saying  petu 
lantly,  when  urged  by  my  aunt  to  go,  that  "  if  she  couldn5/; 
ride  when  she  wanted  to,  she  wouldn't  ride  at  all." 

"  Where's  Anna?  She'll  go,  I  know,"  said  Herbert^ 
glancing  round  the  room,  and  adding  in  a  low  tone,  which 
reached  my  ear  only,  "  and  I'd  far  rather  she  would." 

When  I  explained  to  him  that  she  had  a  headache,  and  did 
not  wish  to  be  disturbed,  he  exclaimed,  "  What  ails  all  the 
girls  to-day?  Anything  the  matter  with  you,  Rosa?  If  there 
isn't,  put  on  your  bonnet,  and  I'll  show  you  the  city,  for  I 
am  resolved  upon  riding  with  somebody." 

As  my  aunt  made  no  objection,  I  was  soon  ready  and  seated 
by  the  side  of  Herbert,  in  the  light  vehicle,  which  he  dro\  ^ 


100  MEADOW    BROOK. 

himself.  I  think  he  exerted  himself  to  be  agreeable,  for  I  ; 
never  saw  him  appear  so  well  before,  and  in  my  heart  I  did 
not  blame  my  poor  sister  for  liking  him,  as  I  was  sure  she  did, 
while  at  the  same  time  I  wondered  how  he  could  fancy  Ada 
Montrose.  As  if  divining  my  thoughts,  he  turned  suddenly 
toward  me,  and  said,  "  Rosa,  how  do  you  like  Ada?7' 

Without  stopping  to  reflect,  I  replied,  promptly,  "  Not  at 
all." 

"  Frankly  spoken,"  said  he;  and  then  for  several  minutes 
he  was  silent,  while  I  was  trying  to  decide  in  my  own  mind 
whether  or  not  he  was  offended,  and  I  was  about  to  ask  him, 
when  he  turned  to  me  again,  saying,  "  We  are  engaged — did 
you  know  it?" 

I  replied  that  I  had  inferred  as  much  from  the  conversation 
which  I  had  heard  between  her  and  Miss  Marvin,  saying  fur 
ther,  for  his  manner  emboldened  me,  that  "  I  was  surprised, 
for  I  did  not  think  her  such  a  one  as  he  would  fancy." 

"  Neither  is  she,"  said  he,  again  relapsing  into  silence.  At 
last,  rousing  up,  he  continued,  "  I  must  talk  to  somebody, 
and  as  you  seem  to  be  a  sensible  girl,  I  may  as  well  make  a 
clean  breast,  and  tell  you  all  about  it.  Ada  came  up  here 
from  Georgia  last  spring,  and  the  moment  mother  saw  her 
she  picked  her  out  for  her  future  daughter-in-law.  I  don't 
know  why  it  is,  but  mother  has  wanted  me  to  get  married  • 
ever  since  I  began  to  shave.  I  believe  she  thinks  it  will  make 
me  steady;  but  I  am  steady  enough  now,  for  1  haven't  drunk 
a  drop  in  almost  a  year.  I  should,  though,  if  Ada  Montrose 
was  my  wife.  But  that's  nothing  to  the  point.  Mother  saw 
her  and  liked  her.  /  saw  her,  and  liked  her  well  enough  at 
first,  for  she  is  beautiful,  you  know,  and  every  man  is  mors 
or  less  attracted  by  that.  They  say,  too,  that  she  is  wealthy, 
and  though  I  would  as  soon  marry  a  poor  girl  as  a  rich  one, 
provided  I  liked  her,  I  shall  not  deny  but  her  money  had  its 
influence  with  me  to  a  certain  extent.  And  then,  too,  it  was 
fun  to  get  her  away  from  the  other  young  men  who  flocked 
around  her,  like  bees  round  a  honey  jar.  But,  to  make  f 
long  story  short,  we  got  engaged — Heaven  only  knows  how, 
but  engaged  we  were,  and  then —  Here  he  paused,  as  if 
nearing  a  painful  subject,  but  soon  resuming  the  thread  of 
his  story,  ne  continued,  "  And  then  I  stopped  writing  to 
Anna,  for  I  would  not  be  dishonorable.  Do  you  think  she 
felt  it?" 

The  question  was  so  unexpected,  that  I  was  thrown  quite 
off  my  guard,  and  replied,  "  Of  course  she  did;  who  wouldn't 
feel  mortified  to  have  their  letters  unanswered?" 


MEADOW    BROOK,  1.01 

*6  'Twas  wrong,  1  know/7  said  he.  "I  ought  to  have  been 
man  enough  to  tell  her  how  it  was,  and  I  did  begin  more  than 
a  dozen  letters,  but  never  finished  them. .  Dp, you  think.  .Anna 
likes  me  now,  or  could  like  me,  if  I 
knew  I'd  never  get  drunk  again?'' 

Could  he  have  seen  her  when  first  , 

tions  were  given  to  another,  he  wokld-  lia\&  \>een '  sufficiently 
answered;  but  he  did  not,  and  it  was  not  for  me,  I  thought, 
to  enlighten  him;  so  I  replied  evasively,  after  which  he  con 
tinued,  "  As  soon  as  I  was  engaged  to  Ada,  she  began  to  exact 
so  much  attention  from  me,  acting  so  silly,  and  appearing  so 
ridiculous  that  I  got  sick  of  it,  and  now  my  daily  study  is  how 
to  rid  myself  of  her;  but  I  believe  I've  commenced  right. 
(Jan  I  make  a  confidant  of  you,  and  feel  sure  you'll  not  betray 
me  to  any  one,  unless  it  is  to  Anna?" 

I  hardly  knew  how  to  answer,  for  if  it  was  anything  wrong 
which  he  meditated,  I  did  not  wish  to  be  in  the  secret,  and  so 
T  told  him;  but  it  made  no  difference,  for  he  proceeded  to 
say,  "  I  shall  never  marry  Ada  Montrose,  never;  neither  would 
it  break  her  heart  if  I  shouldn't,  for  she's  more  than  half  tired 
of  me  now." 

I  thought  of  the  dark  stranger,  and  felt  that  he  was  right, 
but  I  said  nothing,  and  he  went  on,  "  Sometimes  I  thought 
I'd  go  up  to  Meadow  Brook,  tell  Anna  all  about  it,  ask  her 
to  marry  me,  and  so  settle  the  matter  at  once;  but  then  I  did 
not  know  but  she  might  have  grown  up  raw,  awkward,  and 
disagreeable,  so  I  devised  a  plan  by  which  I  could  find  out. 
Mother  would  burn  her  right  hand  off,  I  believe,  to  save  me 
from  a  drunkard's  grave,  and  when  I  wish  to  win  her  consent 
to  any  particular  thing,  all  I  have  to  do  is  to  threaten  her  with 
the  wine-cup." 

"  Oh,  Herbert!  how  can  you?"  I  exclaimed,  for  I  was  in- 
sxpressibly  shocked. 

"  It's  a  way  I've  got  into,"  said  he,  laughing  at  my  rueful 
face.  "  And  when  I  suggested  that  Anna  should  spend  the 
winter  here,  I  hinted  to  the  old  lady  that  if  she  didn't  con 
sent,  I'd  go  off  with  a  party  of  young  men  on  a  hunting  ex 
cursion.  Of  course  she  yielded  at  once,  for  she  well  knew 
that  if  I  joined  my  former  boon  companions  I  should  fall." 

"  And  so  we  are  indebted  to  you  for  our  winter  in  Boston," 
said  I,  beginning  to  see  things  in  a  new  light. 

"  Why,  no,  not  wholly,"  he  answered;  "  mother  consented 
much  easier  than  I  supposed  she  would.  The  fact  is,  she's 
changed  some  since  she  was  at  Meadow  Brook.  She's  joined 
the  Episcopal  Church,  and  though  that  in  my  estimation  don't 


102  MEADOW    BKOOK. 

amoubb  to  much,  of  course,  she  has  to  do  better,  for  it 
wouldn't  answer  for  a  professor  to  put  on  so  many  airs." 

.As  the  daughter  of  a  deacon,  I  felt  it  incumbent  upon  me 
to  reprove  the  thoughtless  young  man;  but  it  did  no  good,  for 
he  proceeded  to  say,  "•  It's  all  true,  and  there's  only  one  de- 
,  'nomination  who  are  sincere  in  what  they  profess,  and  that's 
the  Methodist.  :  They  carry  their  religion  into  their  whole 
life,  while  the  Episcopalians,  Presbyterians,  and  Baptists  sit 
on  different  sides  of  the  fence,  and  quarrel  like  fun  about 
xiigh  Church  and  Low,  Old  School  and  New,  close  commun- 
1  ion  and  open  communion,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  I  tell 
you,  Rosa.,  if  I  am  ever  converted — and  mother  thinks  I  will 
be — I  shall  be  a  roaring  Methodist,  and  ride  the  circuit  at 
once!" 

I  was  unused  to  the  world,  and  had  never  heard  any  one 
speak  thus  lightly  of  religion;  but  I  knew  not  what  to  say,  so 
I  kept  silence,  while  he  continued,  "  But  I  am  rambling  from 
my  subject.  Mother  is  a  different  woman,  if  she  does  read 
her  prayers;  and  as  she  has  never  known  a  word  about  my 
writing  to  Anna,  she  consented  to  her  coming,  without  much 
trouble,  saying  she  would  try  to  make  it  pleasant  for  her,  and 
proposing  that  you  too  should  accompany  her,  and  go  to 
school.  You  can't  imagine  how  delighted  I  was  to  find  Anna 
what  she  is,  and  from  the  moment  I  met  her  in  the  parlor, 
Ada  Montrose's  destiny,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned,  was  de 
creed — that  is,  if  I  can  secure  your  sister;  and  I  think  I  shall 
have  no  difficulty  in  so  doing,  for  notwithstanding  her  affect 
ed  coolness,  it  is  easy  to  see  that  I  am  not  indifferent  to  her." 

It  was  in  vain  for  me  to  argue  that  he  was  doing  Ada  great 
wrong,  for  he  insisted  upon  saying  that  he  was  not.  "  She 
hadn't  soul  enough,"  he  said,  "to  really  care  for  any  one, 
and  even  if  she  had,  he  would  far  rather  commit  suicide  at 
once  than  be  yoked  to  her  for  life;  she  was  so  silly,  so  fawn 
ing,  so  flat!" 

It  was  nearly  dark  when  we  reached  home,  and  as  the 
lamps  were  not  yet  lighted  in  the  parlor,  I  went  immediately 
to  my  room,  where  I  found  Anna  lying  upon  the  sofa,  with 
her  face  buried  in  the  cushions.  I  knew  she  was  not  asleep, 
though  she  would  not  answer  me  until  I  had  thrice  repeated 
her  name.  Then  lifting  up  her  head,  she  turned  toward  mo 
a  face  as  white  as  ashes,  while  she  said,  motioning  to  a  little 
stool  near  her,  "  Sit  down  by  me,  Rosa;  I  must  talk  to  some 
one,  or  my  heart  will  break." 

Taking  the  seat,  I  listened  while  she  told  me  how  much  she 
had  loved  Herbert  Langley—  -how  she  had  struggled  to  over- 


MEADOW    BROOK.  103 

• 

«ome  that  love  when  she  thought  he  had  slighted  her,  and 
how,  when  she  saw  him  daily  in  his  own  home,  it  had  returned 
upon  her  with  all  its  former  strength,  until  there  came  to  her 
the  startling  news  that  he  was  engaged  to  another.  "  I  can 
not  stay  here/'  said  she.  "  I  am  going  home.  I  have  writ 
ten  to  mother — see,"  antf  she  pointed  to  a  letter  which  lay 
upon  the  table,  and  which  she  bid  me  read.  It  was  a  strange, 
rambling  thing,  saying  that  "-she  should  die  if  she  stayed 
longer  in  Boston,  and  that  she  was  coming  back  to  Meadow 
Brook." 

"  You  can't  send  this,  Anna,"  said  I,  at  the  same  time 
tossing  it  into  the  grate,  where  a  bright  coal  fire  was  burning. 

At  this  bold  act  of  mine  she  expressed  no  emotion  what 
ever,  but  simply  remarked,  "  I  can  write  another  or  go  with 
out  writing." 

"  And  you  indeed  love  Herbert  so  much?"  I  said. 

"  Better  than  my  life;  and  why  shouldn't  I?"  she  replied. 
"  He  is  all  that  is  noble  and  good." 

"  Suppose  he  proves  to  be  a  drunkard?"  I  queried,  looking 
her  steadily  in  the  face,  while  she  answered,  simply,  '*  And 
what  then?  Would  that  be  harder  to  endure  than  life  with 
out  him?" 

I  know  not  whether  the  spirit  of  prophesy  was  upon  me,  or 
whether  I  felt  a  dim  foreshadowing  of  my  sister's  wretched 
future,  but  from  some  cause  or  other,  I  proceeded  to  picture 
to  her  the  sorrows  of  a  drunkard's  home  and  the  utter  degrada 
tion  of  a  drunkard's  wife,  while  she  listened  shudderingly,  say 
ing  when  I  had  finished,  "  God  save  me  from  such  a  fate!" 

There  was  the  sound  of  footsteps  in  the  hall,  and  Herbert's 
voice  was  heard  at  the  door,  asking  for  admittance.  He  had 
often  visited  us  in  our  room,  and  now,  without  consulting 
Anna's  wishes,  I  bid  him  enter,  going  out  myself  and  leaving 
them  alone.  What  passed  between  them  I  never  knew,  but 
the  supper-tafble  waited  long  for  Herbert,  and  was  finally  re 
moved,  my  aunt  thinking  he  had  gone  out,  "  to  see  Ada,  per 
haps,"  she  said,  and  then  she  asked  me  how  I  liked  her,  tell 
ing  me  she  was  to  be  Herbert's  wife,  and  that  she  hoped  they 
would  be  married  early  in  the  spring. 

I  made  her  no  direct  reply,  for  I  felt  I  was  acting  a  doubly 
nay,  a  treble  part  in  being  thus  confided  in  by  three;  but't 
could  not  well  help  it,  and  I  hoped,  by  betraying  neithe'; 
party,  to  atone  in  a 'measure  for  any  deceit  I  might  be  pra^ 
facing.  After  that  night  there  was  a  great  change  in  Anna, 
*iho  became  so  lively  and  jcheerf  ul  that  nearly  all  observed  it. 
Herbert's  attentions  to  her,  both  at  home  and  abroad* 


104  MEADOW    BKOOK. 

were  so  marked  as  to  arouse  the  jealousy  of  Ada,  who,  while 
she  affected  to  scorn  the  idea  of  being  supplanted  by  "  that 
awkward  Lee  girl/'  as  she  called  her,  could  not  wholly  conceal 
her  anxiety  lest  "  the  Lee  girl "  should,  after  all,  win  from 
her  her  betrothed  husband.  Something  of  this  she  told  my 
aunt,  who,  knowing  nothing  of  the  true  state  of  affairs,  and 
having  the  utmost  confidence  in  her  son's  honor,  laughed  at 
her  fears,  telling  her  once  in  my  hearing,  though  she  was  un 
aware  of  my  proximity,  that,  "  however  much  Herbert  might 
flirt  with  Anna,  he  had  been  too  well  brought  up  to  think  of 
marrying  one  so  far  beneath  him." 

"  But  he  does  think  of  it — I  most  know  he  does,"  persisted 
Ada,  beginning  to  cry;  "  and  I  wish  you'd  send  her  home; 
won't  you?" 

I  did  not  hear  my  aunt's  reply;  but  with  Ada,  my  own 
heart  echoed,  "  send  her  home;"  for  much  as  I  liked  Herbert, 
I  shrunk  from  the  thought  of  committing  my  gentle  sister's 
happiness  to  his  keeping,  and  secretly  I  resolved  upon  writing 
to  my  father  and  acquainting  him  with  the  whole;  but,  alas! 
I  deferred  it  from  day  to  day  until  it  was  too  late. 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE   FLIGHT. 

ONE  bright  morning  about  the  middle  of  January,  Herbert 
announced  his  intention  of  going  to  Worcester  with  Anna, 
who,  he  said,  wished  to  visit  the  lunatic  asylum,  and  as  a  young 
physician  of  his  acquaintance  had  just  commenced  prac 
ticing  there,  it  would  be  a  good  opportunity  for  them  to  go 
over  the  building.  To  this  my  aunt  made  no  objection,  mere 
ly  proposing  that  Ada,  too,  should  go.  Afterward  I  remem 
bered  the  peculiar  look  in  Herbert's  eye,  as  he  replied,  "  Oh, 
fy!  mother,  Ada's  nerves  are  not  strong  enough  to  endure  it. 
She  can  go  with  me  some  other  time." 

Accordingly,  when  breakfast  was  over,  Anna  went  up  tc 
her  room  to  make  the  necessary  preparations  for  her  ride, 
while  I  stood  by  and  gave  her  whatever  assistance  she  needed. 
I  observed  that  every  article  which  belonged  to  her  was  put  in 
its  proper  place,  but  I  gave  it  no  further  heed,  though  I  did 
wonder  why  she  kissed  me  so  often,  turning  back  even  after 
she  had  reached  the  door  to  bid  me  another  good-bye.  Slow 
ly  the  day  passed  away  and  night  came  on,  dark,  cold,  and 
stormy.  Even  now,  as  I  write,  I  can  recall  to  mind  the 
gloom  which  pervaded  my  spirits,  as  I  listened  to  the  sound  of 
the  sleet  and  hail,  which  drove  past  the  window,  where  J  had 


MEADOW    BROOfc  105 

so  iciig  Tor  their  return.  Seven,  eight,  nine,  ten  had 
rung  from  more  than  one  church  dome,  and  then  we  gave 
them  up.  for  the  shrill  whistle  of  the  last  train  on  which  they 
would  be  likely  to  come  had  long  since  sounded  in  onr  ears. 

"  They  must  have  stayed  somewhere;  don't  you  think  so?" 
said  my  aunt,  addressing  her  husband,  who,  man-like,  was 
not  in  thv9  least  alarmed,  but  sat  conning  his  evening  paper, 
nearer  asleep  than  awake. 

"  Of  course  they  have,"  said  he,  looking  up  at  his  wife's 
inquiry.  "  I  wouldn't  come  in  this  storm,  if  1  were  in  their 
places!" 

That  night  I  watered  my  pillow  with  tears,  scarcely  know 
ing  why  I  wept,  save  that  1  felt  oppressed  with  a  sense  of 
desolation,  as  if  Anna  was  gone  from  me  forever.  The  next 
day  came  and  went,  but  it  brought  no  tidings  of  the  missing 
pair,  and  half  unconscious  of  what  she  was  doing,  my  aunt 
went  from  room  to  room,  sometimes  weeping  and  again 
brightening  up,  as  she  enumerated  the  many  things  which 
might  have  prevented  their  return.  At  evening,  Ada  came 
in,  and  my  aunt  immediately  began  urging  her  to  spend  the 
night.  This  she  did  willingly.,  seeming  very  anxious  concern 
ing  the  absence  of  Herbert,  and  feeling,  I  was  sure,  a  little 
suspicious  that  I  might  know  more  of  his  whereabouts  than  I 
chose  to  tell,  for  once,  when  we  were  alone,  she  turned  toward 
me  and  very  haughtily  asked  if  "  I  had  any  idea  where  they 
were?" 

"  None  whatever,"  said  I,  and  she  continued: 

"  Has  it  never  occurred  to  you  that  this  Anna  Lee  mani 
fested  altogether  too  marked  a  preference  for  a  gentleman 
whom  she  knew  to  be  engaged?" 

"  The  preference  was  mutual,"  I  replied.  "  Herbert  liked 
Anna,  and  Anna  liked  Herbert." 

"  And  they  have  gone  oif  to  consummate  that  liking  by  a 
marriage,"  interrupted  Ada. 

"  I  do  not  know  that  they  have,"  I  returned;  "  but  such  a 
termination  of  affairs  would  not  surprise  me." 

She  was  very  pale,  and  there  were  tears  in  her  eyes;  but  1 
thought  they  arose  more  from  a  sense  of  mortification  than 
from  any  real  love  which  she  bore  for  Herbert  Langley,  and 
so  I  did  'not  pity  her  as  I  should  otherwise  have  done.  The 
next  morning  at  breakfast  both  she  and  my  aunt — particu 
larly  the  latter — looked  weary  and  worn,  as  if  neither  had 
slept  at  all  during  the  night.  My  uncle,  on  the  contrary, 
seemed  to  be  unmoved.  He  probably  had  an  opinion  of  lo 
own,  but  whatever  it  was  he  kept  it  to  himself,  merely  saying 


106  &EAt)OW   BUOOft. 

f  bat  if  the  Eastern  mail  brought  no  letter  he  would  go  in  quesfc 
of  them  himself.  I  knew  I  could  not  study  in  my  present 
excitement,  and  so  I  asked  permission  to  remain  at  home. 
Stationing  myself  at  the  window,  I  watched  anxiously  for  the 
return  of  Herod,  who,  as  usual,  had  been  sent  to  the  office. 
He  came  at  last,  bringing  his  pocket  full  of  letters,  two  01 
which  were  for  me,  one  postmarked  Meadow  Brook  and  tlii 
other  Albany.  With  a  trembling  hand  I  tore  open  the  latter, 
which  was  in  my  sister's  handwriting.  Glancing  at  the  sig 
nature,  my  fears  were  confirmed,  for  there  stood  the  name  of 
"  Anna  Langley  "  in  Herbert's  bold,  dashing  hand. 

"  She  had  refused  to  write  it  thus,"  he  said,  in  a  postscript, 
**  and  so  he  had  done  it  for  her." 

The  letter  contained  no  apology  from  either  for  what  they 
had  done,  but  merely  informed  me  of  the  fact  that  instead  of 
stopping  in  Worcester,  they  had  gone  straight  on  to  Albany, 
which  they  reached  about  six  o'clock,  going  to  the  Delevan 
House,  where  in  less  than  an  hour  they  were  husband  and 
wife;  Heibert's  old  comrade,  Tom  Wilson,  accompanying 
them,  and  being  a  witness  of  the  ceremony.  What  affected 
me  more  unpleasantly  than  all  the  rest  was  the  derisive  man 
ner  in  which  Herbert  spoke  of  Ada. 

"  Givre  her  my  love,"  he  said,  "  and  tell  her  not  to  feel  too 
badly.  I'd  like  well  enough  to  marry  her,  too,  but  under  the 
present  laws  a  man  can't  have  two  wives,  unless  he  joins  the 
Mormons.  Maybe  I  shall  do  that  some  time,  and  then  I'll 
remember  her." 

Of  his  mother  he  wrote  differently,  and  though  there  was 
no  cringing,  no  acknowledgment  of  wrong,  he  spoke  of  her 
kindly  and  respectfully,  saying,  "  he  hoped  she  would  love 
his  Anna  for  his  sake. ' ' 

Of  course  I  could  not  tell  'Ada  what  he  said  of  her,  neither 
Was  it  necessary,  for  guessing  the  truth  from  my  face,  she 
came  up  softly  behind  me,  and  looking  over  my  shoulder,  read 
every  word  until  she  came  to  the  message  intended  for  her. 
Then  stamping  her  little  foot,  she  exclaimed  passionately, 
"  The  villain,  to  insult  me  thus!  As  if  /,  sprung  from  the 
best  blood  of  Georgia,  would  stoop  to  become  a  rival  of  that 
low-born  country  girl!  No!  By  this  act  Herbert  Langley 
has  shown  that  he  is  all  unworthy  of  me,  and  I  rejoice  in  m 
escape,  while  I  give  him  much  joy  with  his  highly  refined  an 
polished  bride." 

All  my  Lee  temper,  which  is  considerable,  was  roused,  and 
turning  toward  the  lady,  I  exclaimed,  "  My  sister,  Miss  Mon- 
trose,  is  as  good  as  you,  ay,  or  as  Herbert  Langley  either,  and 


MEADOW    BROOK.  107 


the  ixevs  of  her  marriage  with  him  will  carry  sorrow  to  our 
home  at  Meadow  Brook,  where  they  will  say  she  has  literally 
thrown  herself  away." 

"  Very  likely,"  returned  Ada,  sarcastically.  "It  is  quite 
probable  that  a  poor  laborer  will  object  to  his  daughter's  mar 
rying  into  one  of  the  first  families  in  Boston." 

"  He  isn't  a  poor  laborer/'  I  replied,  "  and  even  if  he  were, 
he  would  object  to  his  daughter's  marrying  a  drunkard,  for 
such  Herbert  Langley  has  been  and  such  he  will  be  again." 

A  deep  groan  came  from  the  white  lips  of  my  aunt,  and  for 
the  first  time  since  Ada's  outbreak,  I  remembered  that  she 
was  there.  She  did  not  reprove  me  angrily,  but  in  trembling 
tones  she  said,  "  Kosa,  Herbert  is  my  child,  my  boy,  and  it 
becomes  not  a  girl  of  your  age  to  speak  thus  of  him  in  the 
presence  of  his  mother." 

I  was  humbled,  and  winding  my  arms  about  her  neck,  I 
asked  forgiveness  for  the  harsh  words  I  had  spoken,  and  she 
forgave  me,  for  she  meant  to  do  right,  and  if  sometimes  she 
erred,  it  was  owing  more  to  a  weakness  of  the  flesh  than  an 
unwillingness  of  the  spirit.  In  the  midst  of  our  excitement 
Tom  Wilson  was  ushered  in.  He  had  returned  in  the  same 
train  which  brought  the  letter,  and  had  come  to  give  us  any 
further  information  which  we  might  be  desirous  of  knowing. 

"  When  will  Herbert  come  home?"  was  my  aunt's  first 
question,  her  whole  manner  indicating  how  much  interest  she 
felt  in  the  answer. 

"  Not  very  soon,"  returned  Tom.  "  He  is  tired  of  the  city, 
he  says,  and  besides  that  he  wishes  to  avoid  the  unpleasant  re 
marks  his  elopement  will  necessarily  occasion." 

"  More  like  he  wishes  to  avoid  introducing  his  bride  into 
society,  which  he  knows  has  no  wish  to  receive  her,"  mut 
tered  Ada. 

Tom  paid  no  attention  to  this  spiteful  speech,  but  continued, 
"  He  has  drawn  his  money  from  the  -  Bank,  and  with  it 
he  intends  purchasing  a  farm  in  the  western  part  of  New 
York." 

.  "  An  admirable  plan,"  again  interrupted  Ada.  "  That 
Lee  girl  is  just  calculated  for  a  farmer's  wife." 

Taken  alone  there  was  nothing  particularly  disagreeable  in 
the  three  words  "  that  Lee  girl;"  but  spoken  by  Ada  Mon- 
trose  they  sounded  insultingly,  and  every  time  she  uttered 
them  I  felt  my  blood  boil,  for  /,  too,  was  a  Lee  girl,  and  I 
was  sure  she  included  me  in  the  same  contemptuous  category. 
As  Herbert  had  said,  I  did  not  think  the  disappointment 
would  break  her  heart.  She  was  too  angry  for  that,  and  I 


108  MEADOW    BROOK. 

btlieve  now,  as  I  did  then,  that  most  of  her  feeling  arose  from 
the  mortification  of  knowing  that  a  "  poor  country  girl,"  as 
she  called  Anna,  was  preferred  to  herself.  For  half  an  hour 
or  more  Tom  Wilson  and  my  aunt  conversed  together,  she 
asking  him  at  least  a  dozen  times  "if  he  did  not  think  Her 
bert  could  be  induced  to  return."  At  last,  with  quivering 
lips  and  flushed  cheeks,  as  if  it  cost  her  pride  a  great  effort, 
she  said,  "  Of  course  I  mean  Anna,  too,  when  I  speak  of  Her 
bert's  return.  She  is  his  wife,  you  say,  and  though  I  mighr 
perhaps  wish  it  otherwise,  it  can  not  now  be  helped,  and  if 
he  only  would  come  back  to  me,  I  should  love  her  for  his 
sake." 

In  my  heart  I  blessed  her  for  these  words,  and  mentally 
resolved  to  leave  no  argument  untried  which  might  bring  the 
fugitives  back.  But  it  could  not  be.  Herbert  was  decided, 
IxQ  said.  He  meant  to  be  a  farmer  and  live  in  the  country, 
adding  what  he  knew  would  silence  his  mother  sooner  than 
aught  else  he  could  say,  "  that  temptations  for  him  to  drink 
were  far  greater  in  the  city  than  in  the  country,  and  it  was  for 
this  reason  partly  that  he  preferred  living  in  the  latter  place." 

And  so  my  aunt  yielded  the  point;  but  from  the  day  of  her 
son's  desertion  there  was  in  her  a  perceptible  change.  Far 
oftener  was  she  found  in  the  house  of  prayer,  and  less  fre 
quently  was  she  seen  in  places  of  amusement,  while  more  than 
once  I  heard  her  in  secret  asking  that  her  wayward  boy  might 
be  shielded  from  the  great  temptation.  Alas!  for  thee,  poor 
Herbert  Langley,  sleeping  in  thy  early  grave!  There  were 
prayers  enough,  me  thinks,  to  save  thee;  for  at  an  old  Meadow 
Brook  home  thou  wert  remembered  in  the  early  morn,  and 
not  forgotten  when  at  eve  my  father  knelt  him  down  to  pray. 
Why,  then,  didst  thou  fall  ere  thy  sun  had  reached  the  merid 
ian  of  manhood?  Was  it  because  in  thy  early  training  there 
was  an  error  which  no  after  exertion  could  repair?  We  an- 
swer,  Yes.  The  fault  was  there,  and  little  know  they  Avhat 
'they  do  who  set  before  their  sons  the  poisonous  cup,  and  bid 
them,  by  their  own  example,  drink  and  die.  How  many 
young  men,  from  the  higher  walks  of  life,  now  sleeping  in  the 
dishonored  grave  of  a  drunkard,  might  at  this  moment  be  fill 
ing  some  honorable  position,  had  it  not  been  for  the  wine- or 
beer-drinking  habit  acquired  in  childhood  by  their  own  fire 
side  and  at  their  father's  table?  Look  to  it,  then,  you  around 
whose  hearth-stones  promising  sons  are  gathered,  and  if  in 
the  coming  years  you  would  escape  the  sleepless  nights,  the 
bitter  tears,  and  the  broken  hearts  of  those  whose  children 
walk  in  the  Dath.  which,  sooner  than  all  others,  leadeth  down 


MEADOW    BROOK.  109 

to  death,  teach  them,  both  by  precept  and  by  practice,  to 
"touch  not,  taste  not,  handle  not/'  for  therein  alone  lieth 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

TEN  THOUSAND   DOLLARS. 

EARLY  in  March,  as  I  was  one  Sunday  morning  seated  with 
my  aunt  in  her  pleasant,  cozy  sewing-room,  a  little  bov 
brought  me  a  note  from  Dell  Clayton,  in  which  she  requested 
me,  if  possible,  to  spend  the  afternoon  with  her.  She  was 
sick,  she  wrote,  unable  to  sit  up,  and  what  was  worse  than  all, 
she  was  homesick  and  unhappy.  Her  aunt,  she  said,  was  out 
of  the  city,  and  as  she  had  no  acquaintances,  she  thought  the 
sight  of  a  familiar  face  would  do  her  good. 

Aunt  Charlotte,  to  whom  I  handed  the  note,  consented  to 
my  going,  and  immediately  after  dinner,  which  that  day  was 
served  at  an  earlier  hour  than  usual,  I  started.  Long  and 
daily  walks  have  always  been  to  me  a  luxury,  and  so,  though 
I  had  been  but  a  few  months  in  Boston,  I  was  tolerably  well 
acquainted  with  most  of  its  localities,  and  had  no  trouble  in 
finding  the  once  stylish  but  now  rather  dilapidated  and 
gloomy-looking  block  in  one  part  of  which  Doctor  Clayton 
was  keeping  house.  Since  the  night  when  I  met  him  at  the 
theater,  I  had  never  seen  him,  and  all  that  I  knew  of  him  was 
that  he  had  left  the  Tremont.  Subsequently,  however,  I 
heard  the  whole  history  of  their  proceedings — partly  from  the 
doctor,  partly  from  Dell,  and  partly  from  other  sources,  and 
as  a  recital  of  it  may  not  be  wholly  uninteresting  to  my  read 
ers,  I  will  give  it  before  proceeding  with  a  description  of  my 
call. 

It  seems  that  boarding  at  the  Tremont  was  rather  too  ex 
pensive  for  a  physician  whose  patients  were  not  so  numerous 
as  to  be  troublesome,  and  several  times  had  the  doctor  pro 
posed  returning  to  his  old  place  in  Sturbridge,  where  every 
thing  was  cheaper;  but  to  this  Dell  objected,  for  she  well  knew 
it  would  be  an  admission  that  they  could  not  succeed  in  Bos 
ton,  and  against  this  her  pride  revolted.  "  People  at  home/' 
she  reasoned,  "  would  never  know  how  matters  really  were, 
and  as  long  as  she  could  keep  up  an  appearance  of  gentility 
and  upper-tendom  with  her  former  friends,  she  should  do  so," 
preferring,  like  many  others,  almost  absolute  want  in  the  city, 
to  plenty  in  the  country.  From  this  the  reader  is  not  to  infer 
that  the  doctor  was  extremely  poor;  for  when  he  first  went  to 


110  MEADOW    BROOK. 

Boston  he  was  worth  about  fifteen  hundred  dollars,  which,  in 
a  country  village,  with  a  prudent  wife,  would  have  surround 
ed  him  with  all  the  comforts  of  life,  besides  leaving  him  with 
something  for  that  "  rainy  day  "  about  which  everybody 
blessed  with  a  careful  grandmother  has  heard  more  or  less. 

Li  the  city,  of  course,  it  needed  a  great  deal  of  money  to 
keep  up  the  kind  of  style  upon  which  Dell  insisted,  and  which, 
after  all,  was  far  from  satisfying  her — it  was  so  much  inferior 
to  the  elegance  she  saw  around  her;  and  as  check  after  check 
of  the  doctor's  little  hoard  was  drawn  from  the  bank  to  meet 
their  expenses,  while  but  few  would  get  sick,  or  being  so  would 
send  for  him,  his  heart  sunk  within  him,  and  without  really 
meaning  to  do  so,  he  began  to  wonder  "  when  that  old  grand 
mother  would  die!"  Finding  that  he  could  not  much  longer 
pay  the  enormous  bills  which  were  presented  to  him  weekly 
at  the  Tremont,  he  decided  at  last  upon  housekeeping,  and 
exercising  in  this  case  his  own  judgment,  in  spite  of  the  tears, 
sulks,  and  remonstrances  of  his  wife,  he  hired  a  house  in  an 
obscure  street,  where  the  rents  were  much  lower  than  in  the 
more  fashionable  part  of  the  city.  Very  neatly  he  fitted  it 
up,  going  rather  beyond  his  means,  it  is  true,  but  depending 
a  great  deal  upon  the  fast  failing  health  of  Grandmother  Bar 
ton  to  set  all  things  right. 

Everything  was  at  last  arranged,  and  with  that  comfortable 
feeling  which  other  men  have  experienced  in  similar  circum 
stances,  he  took  his  seat  for  the  first  time  at  his  own  table, 
forgetting  in  his  happiness  that  the  smiling,  handsome  face  of 
the  lady  opposite,  in  blue  merino  morning-gown  and  clean 
white  linen  collar,  had  ever  worn  any  look  save  that  which 
now  sat  upon  it.  Breakfast  was  hardly  over,  when  the  door 
bell  rang  violently  and  a  man  appeared  telling  the  doctor  that 
his  services  were  required  immediately  by  the  wealthy  Mrs. 
Archer,  who  lived  in  an  adjoining  street,  and  who  owned  the 
entire  block  in  which  he  lived. 

Mrs.  Archer  belonged  to  that  class  of  people  who  are  al 
ways  dying,  first  with  one  fancied  disease  and  then  with  an 
other,  in  the  end,  however,  living  much  longer  than  those 
whose  business  it  is  to  minister  to  their  wants.  Being  freak- 
iish  and  whimsical,  she  seldom  employed  the  same  physician 
longer  than  a  yea«r,.but  during  that  time  a  man  with  limited 
wants  was  sure  of  a  livelihood,  for  his  services  were  required 
every  day,  and  the  remuneration  for  the  same  was  so  prompt 
and  liberal  as  to  make  her  patronage  much  sought  after,  par 
ticularly  by  new  practitioners.  Having  taken  a  violent  fancy 
to  Doctor  Clayton  when  lie  bargained  with  her  for  the  house, 


MEADOW    BROOK.  Ill 

sue  feftti  decided  henceforth  to  employ  him,  if  on  trial  he 
proved  to  be  all  she  wished. 

The  doctor  was  well  aware  of,  her  peculiarities,  and  for  sev 
eral  days  past  had  indulged  a  faint  hope  that  she  might  favor 
him  with  a  call.  This  she  had  now  done,  and  very  eagerly  he 
prepared  to  visit  her.  As  he  reached  his  gate,  he  was  met  by 
a  boy  who  brought  a  telegraphic  dispatch  from  Wilbrahanij 
saying  that  Grandma  Barton  was  dead.  Yes,  the  old  lacty 
was  gone,  and  Dell  was  undoubtedly  the  heiress  of  ten  thou 
sand  dollars  at  least,  and  probably  more,  for  her  grandmother 
bore  the  reputation  of  being  miserly,  and  rumor  said  that 
twice  ten  thousand  was  nearer  the  actual  sum  of  her  posses 
sions.  To  ascertain  the  truth  as  soon  as  possible  was  the  doc 
tor's  great  desire,  and  as  the  next  train  bound  for  the  east 
started  in  about  two  hours,  he  decided  to  go  at  once,  though 
the  funeral  was  not  to  take  place  for  two  or  three  days. 

Suddenly  Mrs.  Archer's  message  occurred  to  him,  but  mat 
ters  were  now  changed — he  was  a  rich  man,  and  as  such  Mrs. 
Archer's  patronage  was  not -of  vital  importance.  Still,  it 
would  hardly  do  to  slight  her,  and  rather  unwillingly  he  bent 
his  steps  toward  her  dwelling.  When  there  he  appeared  so 
abrupt  and  absent-minded,  telling  her  there  was  nothing 
whatever  the  matter  with  her  as  he  could  see,  that  the  good 
lady  was  wholly  disgusted,  and  the  moment  he  was  gone,  she 
dispatched  the  servant  for  another  physician,  who,  possessing 
more  tact,  and  not  having  recently  come  into  the  possession 
of  a  fortune,  told  her  with  a  grave,  concerned  look,  that  "  he 
never  saw  anything  like  her  case — it  really  baffled  his  skill, 
though  he  thought  he  could  cure  her,  and  it  would  give  him 
pleasure  to  try." 

Of  course  he  was  employed,  and  just  as  Doctor  Clayton  and- 
Dell  were  stepping  into  the  omnibus,  which  took  them  to  tli3- 
depot,  a  note  was  handed  to  the  former,  saying  his  services 
were  no  longer  needed  by  Mrs.  Archer.  Without  giving  it  a 
thought,  the  doctor  crushed  the  note  into  his  pocket,  and  then 
springing  into  the  carriage,  took  his  seat  by  Dell,  to  whom  he 
was  unusually  attentive,  for  she  had  risen  in  his  estimation 
full  ten  thousand  dollars'  worth,  and  what  man,  for  that  sum 
of  money,  would  not  occasionally  endure  a  cross  look  or  a 
peevish  word!  Not  the  doctor,  most  certainly;  and  when,  on 
reaching  the  depot,  they  found  that  the  cars  would  not  leave 
for  half  an  hour  or  more,  he  could  not  resist  her  entreaties  to 
go  with  her  to  a  jeweler's  on  -  -  Street,  where  the  day  be 
fore  she  had  seen  "  such  a  beautiful  set  of  cameos,  ear-rings. 


MEADOW    BROOK:. 

bracelet,  and  pin  to  match — then,  too,  they  were  so 
only  fifty  dollars.     She  knew  he  would  buy  them." 

'Twas  in  vain  for  him  to  say  that  he  h^,d  not  fifty  dollars, 
for  she  replied  that  ' '  he  could  take  it  from  the  bank  and  re 
place  it  when  she  got  her  fortune;"  adding,  "I'll  give  you  a 
hundred  in  place  of  it;  so  gratify  me  this  once,  that's  a  dear, 
^good  man!" 

Of  course,  the  dear  good  man  was  persuaded,  as  many  an-    . 
other  dear  good  man  has  been,  and  will  be  again  by  a  coaxing 
woman.     The  cameos  were  bought,  and  in  the  best  rf  humor 
the  young  couple  took  their  seats  in  the  cars,  which  W&e  soon 
bearing  them  swiftly  toward  the  house  of  death.    \  i&£y  pleas-    ] 
ant  were  the  doctor's  reflections  as  the  train  sped  cO©V©r  val 
ley  and  plain ;  he  was  a  fortunate,  happy  man,  and  f^  when    ; 
they  paused  at  the  Meadow  Brook  station,  he  thought  for  au   J 
instant  of  the  girl  Eosa  Lee,  her  memory  was  to  him  like  an 
idle  dream,  which  had  passed  away  in  the  golden  beams  of 
day.     Arrived  at  Wilbraham  depot,  they  took  a  carriage  for  J 
the  village,  which  is  about  two  miles  or  more  from  the  rail 
road. 

The  old  brown  shutters  of  the  large  wooden  building  where 
Mrs.  Barton  had  lived  and  died,  were  closed,  and  about  the 
house  there  was  no  sign  of  life.  But  this  was  hardly  different 
from  what  it  had  been  during  the  old  lady's  life,  for  she  was 
one  who  lived  mostly  within  herself,  seldom  seeing  company,  _ 
though  always  sure  to  go  whenever  she  was  invited.  Exceed 
ingly  penurious,  she  stinted  her  household  to  the  last  degree 
of  endurance,  and  denied  herself  even  the  comforts  of  life, 
while  her  last  request  had  been  that  her  body  might  be  suffered 
to  remain  in  her  sleeping-room,  so  as  not  to  litter  the  parlor 
or  wear  the  carpet! 

At  the  head  of  the  family  was  Mabel  Warrener,  a  poor 
young  girl,  who  for  the  three  years  had  lived  with  Mrs.  Bar 
ton  in  the  capacity  of  half  waiting-maid,  half  companion,  and 
to  her  the  neighbors  now  looked  for  directions.  Anxious  to  pay 
all  due  deference  to  the  wishes  of.  her  late  mistress,  Mabel  at 
first  said,  "  Let  the  body  remain  where  it  is;"  but  when  she 
reflected  that  "  the  fashionable  Mrs.  Clayton  from  Boston,", 
with  her  proud  husband — for  so  were  they  considered — would 
probably  be  there,  she  changed  her  mind,  and  the  deceased 
was  carried  into  the  dark,  damp  parlor,  where  a  fire  had  not 
been  kindled  for  more  than  a  year.  The v  same  was  also  true 
of  the  chamber  above,  which  was  designed  for  the  doctor  and 
his  l;idy,  the  latter  of  whom  shivered  as  she  entered  it,  rather 
haughtilv  bidding:  Mabel,  who  accomDanied  her.  "  to  make  a 


MEADOW    BROOK.  113 

fire  there  as  soon  as  possible,  for  she  was  not  accustomed  to% 
cold  rooms,  and  should  freeze  to  death." 

Very  meekly  Mabel  complied,  not  only  with  this  requisi 
tion,  but  with  fifty  others  from  the  same  source;  for  Dell, 
thinking  she  was  now  mistress  of  the  house,  took  upon  herself 
many  airs,  ordering  this,  that  and  the  other,  until  the  neigh 
bors,  quite  disgusted,  left  poor  Mabel  alone,  with  the  excep 
tion  of  the  deaf  old  woman,  who  ruled  in  the  kitchen  as  cook. 
The  morning  following  the  arrival  of  the  doctor,  Captain 
Thompson,  wife,  and  son  came  out  from  Sturbridge  to  attend/' 
the  funeral;  for  though  they  were  in  no  way  connected  with^ 
Mrs.  Barton,  they  knew  her  well,  and  wished  to  pay  her  this 
last  tribute  of  respect.  Then,  too,  Mrs.  Thompson  was  very 
desirous  of  seeing  Dell,  who  was  now  an  heiress,  and  as  such 
entitled  to  attention.  Long  they  talked  together  concerning 
the  future,  Dell  telling  how  she  meant  "to  fix  up  the  old 
rookery  for  a  summer  residence,"  and  inviting  her  sister-in- 
law  to  spend  as  much  time  with  her  as  she  possibly  could. 
The  cameos  were  next  duly  inspected,  admired,  tried  on,  and 
then  the  two  went  down  to  the  room  below,  and  turning  back 
the  thin  muslin  which  shaded  the  face  of  the  dead,  gazed  upon 
the  pinched,  stony  features  which  seemed  so  much  to  reproach 
them  for  their  cold-hearted  selfishness,  in  thus  planning  ways 
and  means  by  which  to  spend  her  hoarded  wealth  even  before 
she  was  buried  from  their  sight. 

That  afternoon  there  was  heard  a  tolling  bell,  and  a  long 
procession  moved  slowly  to  the  church-yard,  where  the  words 
"  ashes  to  ashes,  dust  to  dust,"  and  the  sound  of  the  hard, 
frozen  earth,  rattling  upon  the  coffin-lid,  broke  the  solemn 
stillness,  but  disturbed  not  the  rest  of  those  who,  henceforth, 
would  be  the  fellow-sleepers  of  her  now  committed  to  the 
grave.  When  the  party  of  mourners  had  returned  to  the 
house,  the  doctor  began  to  speak  of  the  necessity  there  was  for 
his  returning  immediately  to  the  city,  at  the  same  time  hint 
ing  to  Captain  Thompson  that  "  if  there  was  a  will,  he  would 
like  to  see  it." 

Mabel  Warrener,  who  was  supposed  to  know  more  than  any 
one  else  concerning  Mrs.  Barton's  affairs,  was  called  in  and 
questioned,  she  replying  that  "  her  mistress,  one  day,  about 
two  weeks  before  tier  death,  had  said  to  her  that  if,  after  her 
death,  any  inquiry  should  be  made  conceiving  her  will,  it 
could  be  found  in  the  private  drawer  of  her  secretaiy,  where 
was  also  a  letter  for  Mrs.  Clayton.  Both  of  these  were 
brought  out,  and  with  her  handkerchief  over  her  eyes,  Dell 
listened  while  Captain  Thompson  read  aloud  the  astounding 


114  MEADOW    BROOK. 

'fact  that  the  entire  possessions  of  Mrs.  Barton,  h*A\>unting  tu 
fifteen  thousand  dollars,  were  given  to  Mabel  "Warrener,  who, 
having  had  no  suspicion  whatever  of  the  fortune  in  store  for 
her,  fainted  away,  and  was  borne  from  the  room,  as  was  also 
Dell;  while  the  doctor,  it  was  confidently  asserted,  went  out 
behind  the  woodshed  and  actually  vomited,  so  great  was  his 
disappointment.  Soon  rallying,  however,  both  he  and  his 
wife  declared  it  a  fraud,  accusing  the  still  unconscious  Mabel 
of  treachery,  and  it  was  not  until  the  lawyer  who  had  drawn 
the  will  was  produced  that  they  could  be  convinced.  Sud- 
(denly  remembering  her  letter,  Dell  broke  it  open  and  found 
therein  the  reasons  for  this  most  unaccountable  freak.  Al 
ways  peculiar  and  naturally  jealous,  Mrs.  Barton  had  felt 
piqued  that  she  was  not  invited  to  Dell's  wedding,  which,  con 
sidering  that  she  was  spending  the  summer  in  Albany  at  the 
time  when  it  took  place,  was  not  very  remarkable.  Then, 
too,  she  was  not  consulted,  and  she  didn't  believe  in  doctors, 
they  killed  more  than  they  cured;  but  the  head  and  front  of 
the  offense  seemed  to  be  that,  instead  of  hiring  two  or  three 
rooms  and  keeping  house  in  a  small,  economical  way,  they 
boarded  at  the  Tremont,  where  Dell  had  nothing  to  do  but 
<k  to  change  her  dress,  eat,  sleep,  and  laze  " — so  the  letter  ran 
— "  and  she — Mrs.  Barton — would  not  suffer  a  penny  of  her 
money  to  go  for  the  support  of  such  extravagance;  she  pre 
ferred  giving  it  to  Mabel  Warrener,  who  was  a  prudent,  sav 
ing  girl,  and  would  take  care  of  it;  while  the  paltry  doctor 
would  spend  it  for  cigars,  fast  horses,  patent  leather  boots, 
and  all  sorts  of  fooleries." 

The  letter  ended  with  an  exhortation  to  Dell  to  "  go  to 
work  and  earn  her  own  living,  as  her  grandmother  had  done 
before  her." 

The  doctor's  reflections,  as  he  rode  back  to  Boston,  were 
not  of  the  most  enviable  nature;  and  who  can  wonder  if  he 
was  rather  testy  toward  his  wife,  who  retorted  so  angrily  as  to 
bring  on  quite  a  sharp  quarrel,  which  was  prevented  from 
being  heard  by  the  roar  of  the  machinery;  and  if  at  Meadow 
Brook  he  did  think  again  of  Rosa  Lee,  half  fancying  that  five 
thousand  dollars  divided  by  thirteen,  if  shared  with  her,  might 
be  preferable  to  nothing  divided  by  nothing,  shared  with  Dell, 
who  can  blame  him?  Not  /,  most  certainly.  Wasn't  he  ter 
ribly  disappointed?  Hadn't  he  just  lost  fifteen  thousand  dol 
lars,  to  say  nothing  of  a  patient,  whose  patronage  would  have 
insured  him  a  living  for  at  least  a  year,  besides  introducing 
him  into  a  broader  field  of  practice;  and  if  the  cameo  ear-rings 
were  rather  becoming  to  the  dark  hair  and  black  eyes  of  has 


MEADOW    BROOK,  115 

wife,  did  that  in  any  way  compensate  him  for  the  fifty  dollars 
which  stood  on  the  credit  side  of  his  bank-book?  Still,  I  see 
no  good  reason  why,  after  their  arrival  home  at  a  late  hour  of 
the  night,  they  should  sit  up  for  more  than  an  hour  in  a  cold, 
cheerless  room,  telling  each  other — the  one  that  she  wished 
she  had  never  married  him,  for  "  he  alone  stood  in  the  way  of 
her  inheritance;"  while  the  other  replied  that  "but  for"her 
extravagance  he  should  now  have  had  fifteen  hundred  dollars 
in  the  bank  instead  of  five  hundred." 

Wretched  couple!  Their  history  is  like  that  of  many  others 
who  marry  without  a  particle  of  love,  or  at  most,  only  a  pass 
ing  fancy.  Had  Dell  chosen,  she  could  in  time  have  won  the 
affection  of  her  husband,  but  being  naturally  selfish  and  ex 
acting,  she  expected  from  him  every  attention;  while  in  return 
she  seldom  gave  him  aught  save  cross  looks  and  peevish  words, 
complaining  that  he  did  not  treat  her  now  as  he  once  had 
done.  As  long  as  the  doctor  had  a  fortune  in  expectancy,  he 
bore  his  wife's  ill  humor  tolerably  well,  but  now  that  hope 
was  gone,  his  whole  being  seemed  changed,  and  Dell  was  not 
often  obliged  to  quarrel  alone. 

At  last,  broken  in  spirits,  and  being  really  sick,  she  had 
sent  for  me,  as  I  have  before  stated.  I  found  her  in  bed, 
propped  up  on  pillows,  her  shining  black  hair  combed  back, 
and  her  large  black  eyes  seeming  blacker  than  ever,  from  con 
trast  with  her  colorless  cheek.  All  her  old  haughtiness  was 
gone,  and  the  moment  she  saw  me  she  stretched  her  arms  to 
ward  me,  and  bursting  into  tears,  exclaimed,  "  Oh,  Rosa,  I 
am  so  glad  you  have  come.  I  was  afraid  you  wouldn't,  for  I 
knew  your  aunt  was  very  aristocratic,  and  I  thought  she  might 
not  be  willing  to  have  you  visit  jpoor,  obscure  people  like  us." 

There  was  much  of  bitterness  in  the  last  part  of  this  speech, 
and  it  grated  harshly  upon  my  feelings;  but  it  was  like  her,  I 
knew,  and  she  had  only  judged  my  aunt  by  what  she  well 
knew  she  should  herself  be  in  a  similar  position;  so  I  took  no 
notice  of  it,  save  to  assure  her  that  Aunt  Charlotte  was  per 
fectly  willing  I  should  come,  while  at  the  same  time  I  ex 
pressed  my  sorrow  at  finding  her  so  unwell,  and  asked  "  what 
was  the  matter." 

"  Oh,  nothing  much,"  said  she.  "  I  have  no  particular 
disease,  unless  it  be  one  of  the  mind,  and  that,  you  know,  is 
not  easily  cured." 

I  made  no  answer  to  this;  but  after  a  moment's  silence,  I 
ventured  to  inquire  for  her  husband.  Instantly  there  came  a 
bright  glow  to  her  cheek,  as  she  replied,  * '  Oh,  he  is  as  well  as 
could  be  expected,  considering  his  terrible  disappointment*" 


H6  MEADOW    BROOK. 

Of  course  I  asked  what  disappointment,  whereupon  she  pro 
ceeded  to  narrate  a  part  of  what  I  have  already  told  to  my 
readers,  withholding  nearly  all  the  points  wherein  she  had 
been  to  blame,  and  dwelling  with  apparent  delight  upon  the 
faults  of  her  husband,  who,  she  protested,  was  wholly  selfish 
and  avaricious.  "  I  know,"  said  she,  "  why  he  marrie.d  me; 
'twas  for  the  sake  of  the  few  dollars  he  thought  my  grand 
mother  would  leave  me,  and  now  being  disappointed  in  that, 
he  cares  no  more  for  me  than  he  does  for  you — no,  nor  half 
so  much,  for  he  always  preferred  you  to  me,  and  I  wish  I  had 
let  you  have  him,  for  you  liked  him,  I  know,  better  than  I 
did." 

As  she  said  this,  she  looked  me  steadily  in  the  face,  as  if  to 
read  my  inmost  soul.  I  felt  provoked,  for  I  now  thought  of 
my  former  affection  for  the  doctor  as  something  of  which  I 
was  a  little  ashamed,  and  I  did  not  much  like  to  be  reminded 
of  it  by  his  wife.  So  I  ventured  to  say  that  "  whatever  I 
might  once  have  felt  for  her  husband,  it  was  all  over  now, 
and  I  could  think  of  no  greater  misfortune  than  that  of  being 
his  wife." 

Now,  I  should  know  better  than  to  speak  thus  to  any  wom 
an  concerning  her  husband,  for  however  much  she  may  talk 
against  him  herself,  she  certainly  has  no  desire  or  expectation 
that  her  listener  will  agree  with  her.  On  this  occasion,  Dell 
grew  angry  at  once,  telling  me  "  I  needn't  speak  so  lightly  of 
her  husband — he  was  good  enough  for  anybody,"  while  at  the 
same  time  she  muttered  something  about  "  sour  grapes!" 

I  was  taken  quite  aback,  and  remained  silent,  until  she  at 
last  said,  laughingly,  "  I  don't  wish  to  quarrel  with  you,  Rosa. 
Pardon  any  ill  humor  I  may  have  manifested.  I  get  nervous 
and  fidgety  staying  here  alone  so  much." 

"  Is  not  the  doctor  with  you  sometimes?"  I  inquired. 

"  Oh,  yes;  once  in  a  great  while,"  said  she;  "  but  he  can 
bear  the  atmosphere  of  any  other  sick-room  better  than  mine. 
80  he?s  off — hunting  up  patients,  I  suppose.  I  tell  him  he 
gets  his  living  that  way,  and  a  poor  living  it  bids  fair  to  be. 
Between  you  and  me,  Rosa,"  she  continued,  growing  excited, 
"he  is  shiftless,  if  you  know  what  that  means,  and  we  are 
worth  to-day  just  as  much  as  we  ever  shall  be." 

I  felt  that  she  wronged  him,  and  told  her  so,  at  the  same 
time  enumerating  his  many  good  qualities,  while  she  listened, 
evidently  better  pleased  than  when  I  had  spoken  lightly  of 
him.  In  the  midst  of  our  conversation  there  was  a  familiar 
step  in  the  hall,  and  a  moment  after  the  doctor  himself  en 
tered  the  room.  He  looked  care-worn  and  haggard;  but  at 


MEADOW    BROOft.  11? 

the  sight  of  me,  whose  presence  surprised  him,  his  face  quick 
ly  lighted  up,  and  there  was  much  of  his  olden  manner  as  he 
took  my  hand  and  expressed  his  pleasure  at  finding  me  there. 
'Twas  but  for  a  moment,  however,  for  catching  the  eye  of  his 
wife,  he  became  almost  instantly  reserved,  and  seating  him 
self  near  a  window,  he  pretended  to  be  much  occupied  with  a 
book,  which  I  accidentally  discovered  was  wrong  side  up.  It 
was  strange  how  much  waiting  upon  Dell  suddenly  needed. 
/Heretofore  she  had  been  very  quiet,  saying  she  did  not  wish 
'  for  anything,  but  now  that  he  was  there,  her  pillows  must  be 
turned,  her  head  must  be  bathed,  the  window  must  be  open 
and  then  shut,  while  with  every  other  breath  she  declared  him 
to  be  "  the  awkwardest  man  she  ever  saw,"  saying  once, 
"  she  didn't  wonder  he  had  no  more  practice  if  he  handled  all 
his  patients  as  roughly  as  he  did  her." 

After  this  unkind  speech,  the  doctor  made  no  further  at 
tempt  to  please  her,  but  left  her  side  and  returned  to  his  seat 
by  the  window.  Ere  long  the  supper  bell  rang.  I  had  nob 
supposed  it  was  so  late,  and  starting  up,  announced  my  inten 
tion  of  going  home;  but  to  this  neither  the  doctor  nor  Dell 
would  listen,  both  of  them  insisting  upon  my  staying  to  tea; 
she,  because  she  felt  that  common  civility  required  it,  and  he, 
because  he  really  wished  it.  Once  out  of  her  sight,  he  was 
himself  again,  and  playfully  drawing  my  arm  within  his,  he 
led  me  to  the  dining-room,  placing  me  at  the  head  of  the  table, 
where  Dell  was  accustomed  to  sit,  while  he  took  the  seat  op 
posite.  As  we  sat  there  thus,  I  shall  not  say  that  there  came 
to  my  mind  no  thought  of  what  might  have  been,  but  I  can 
say,  and  truthfully,  too,  that  such  thoughts  brought  with 
them  naught  of  pain;  for  though  Doctor  Clayton  had  once 
possessed  the  power  of  swaying  me  at  his  will,  that  time  had 
( gone  by,  and  he  was  to  me  now  only  a  friend,  whom  I  both 
•  liked  and  pitied,  for  I  knew  he  was  far  from  being  happy. 
,  Once,  when  I  handed  him  his  second  cup  of  tea,  he  said,  smil 
ing  upon  me,  "  It  makes  me  very  happy  to  see  you  there — in 
that  seat." 

I  made  no  answer;  and,  as  if  thinking  he  had  said  what  he 
ought  not,  he  immediately  changed  the  conversation,  and 
began  to  question  me  of  my  studies,  etc.,  asking  me  among 
other  things,  if  I  went  to  dancing-school.  Instantly  I  remem 
bered  Mrs.  Ross's  slippers  with  the  little  wads  of  cotton,  and 
I  laughed  aloud.  It  seems  his  thoughts  took  the  same  direc 
tion,  for  he,  too,  laughed  so  loudly  that  when  we  returned  to 
Dell's  room,  she  rather  pettishly  inquired  what  we  found  to 
amuse  us  so  much,  saying  "  she  hadn't  seen  the  doctor  look 


118  MEADOW    BROOR. 

so  pleased  since — since,  well,  since  grandma's  death/'  she 
finally  added,  at  the  same  time  glancing  at  him  to  witness  the 
•effect  of  her  words. 

He  turned  very  white  about  the  mouth,  and  I  am  quite  cer 
tain  I  heard  the  word  "Thunder!"  At  all  events,  his  eyes 
flashed  angrily  upon  the  provoking  woman,  who  again,  in 
quired  at  what  we  were  laughing.  When  1  told  her,  she  too ' 
laughed,  saying,  "  Oh,  yes,  I  remember  it  well,  and  have 
sometimes  thought  that  I  owe  my  present  position  to  that 
awkward  misstep  of  yours." 

"  I  am  very  glad  I  fell,  then,"  said  I,  rather  impatiently, 
while  I  throw  on  my  hood  and  shawl,  preparatory  to  going 
home. 

"  Hadn't  you  better  call  an  omnibus  for  her?"  asked  Dell 
of  her  husband,  who  was  putting  on  his  overshoes. 

"  I  am  going  round  with  her  myself,"  he  answered.  "  I 
have  a  patient  on  the  way;"  and  he  hurried  from  the  room 
ere  she  could  say  anything  further. 

It  was  a  beautiful  moonlight  night,  and  as  I  took  his  arm  I 
recalled  the  time  when  once  before  we  had  walked  thus  to 
gether.  I  think  he  remembered  it  too,  for  he  asked  me  "  if  I 
ever  visited  Pine  District?" 

"  Not  often,"  I  replied;  and  he  continued  to  say,  that 
"  notwithstanding  that  it  was  little  more  than  a  year  and  a 
half  since  he  first  saw  me  there,  it  seemed  to  him  an  age," 
adding;  "  and  it  is  not  strange  neither,  for  I  have  passed 
through  many  trials  since  then." 

To  this  I  made  no  reply,  and  ere  long  he  proceeded  to  speak 
further  of  himself  and  of  his  disappointment,  first  with  re 
gard  to  his  business,  and  next  with  regard  to  his  domestic  re 
lations,  which  he  gave  me  to  understand  were  not  particularly 
happy.  Very  delicately  and  carefully  he  handled  the  latter 
subject,  speaking  not  one  half  so  hardly  of  Dell  as  she  had 
spoken  of  him.  Still,  I  felt  that  he  had  no  right  thus  to  speak 
to  me,  and  so  I  told  him. 

"  I  know  it,  Rosa,"  he  returned — "  I  know  it  all;  but  for 
this  once  you  must  hear  me,  and  I  will  never  trouble  you 
again,  I  committed  a  great  error  in  marrying  one  while  my 
heart  belonged  to  another — stay,"  he  continued,  as  I  was 
about  to  interrupt  him.  "  You  must  hear  me  out.  It  is  not 
of  my  love  for  that  other  that  I  would  speak;  but,  Rosa,  T 
would  know  how  far  I  have  wronged  you.  Did  you  love  me, 
and  had  I  asked  you  to  share  my  home,  when  at  a  suitable 
age,  would  you  have  done  so?': 

He  was  very  pale,  and  the  arm  on  which  my  hand  was  rest- 


MEADOW    BROOK.  119 

ing  trembled  violently,  but  grew  still  when  he  heard  my  an 
swer,  which  was,  "  I  did  love  you,  but  'twas  a  childish  love, 
and  quickly  passed  away.  And  were  you  now  free  as  you  once 
were,  I  could  be  to  you  nothing  save  a  friend." 

There  was  a  mixture  of  disappointment  and  pleasure  on  his 
face;  but  he  replied:  "  I  am  glad  that  it  is  so,  and  shall  now* 
feel  happier,  for  the  hardest  part  of  all  was  the  thought  thai , 
possibly  you,  too,  might  suffer." 

"  Not  at  all,"  I  answered;  adding:  "  It  would  be  foolish  to 
break  my  heart  for  one  man,  when  there  are  so  many  in  the 
world." 

This  I  said  with  bitterness,  for  I  remembered  the  time  when 
I  had  wept  in  the  shadowy  woods  of  Meadow  Brook,  and  if  for 
a  moment  I  experienced  a  feeling  of  satisfaction  in  knowing 
that  what  /  suffered  then  he  was  suffering  now,  I  can  only 
plead  woman's  nature  as  an  apology.  'Twas  but  for  a  mo 
ment,  however,  and  then,  casting  off  all  such  feelings,  I  spoke 
to  him  kindly  of  his  wife,  telling  him  he  could  be  happy  with 
her  if  he  tried,  and  that  if  he  were  not,  it  was  probably  as 
much  his  fault  as  hers.  Brighter  days,  too,  would  come,  I 
said,  when  his  practice  would  not  be  limited  to  three  patients, 
one  of  whom  was  too  poor  to  pay,  and  another  was  already 
convalescent,  while  the  third  was  in  the  last  stages  of  her  dis 
ease,  and  would  need  his  services  but  a  few  days  longer. 

"  You  are  my  good  angel,  Kosa,"  said  he,  when  at  last  we 
reached  my  uncle's  door,  "  and  your  words  inspire  me  with 
courage.  Come  and  see  us  often,  for  the  sight  of  you  does 
one  good,  and  God  knows  how  much  I  stand  in  need  of  sym 
pathy.  Farewell." 

He  pressed  my  hand,  and  hastily  raising  it  to  his  lips,  turned 
away,  dreading,  as  I  well  knew,  a  return  to  the  sick-room, 
where  naught  would  greet  him  save  reproachful  complaints, 
and  where  the  dark  eyes,  which  had  first  won  his  admiration, 
would  flash  angrily  upon  him.  In  the  hall,  I  stood  for  a  tim^ 
pondering  in  my  mind  some  way  by  which  I  could  assist  hini, 
and  I  even  thought  of  feigning  sickness  myself  for  the  sake 
of  adding  another  patient  to  his  list!  But  this,  I  knew,  he 
would  easily  detect,  and  possibly  he  might  misconstrue  my 
motive  for  so  doing,  and  this  project  was  abandoned,  and  I 
entered  the  parlor  in  quest  of  my  aunt,  who,  I  learned  from 
one  of  the  servants,  was  in  her  own  room,  suffering  from  a 
severe  headache.  She  had  taken  a  violent  cold,  which,  by  the 
next  morning,  had  developed  itself  into  a  species  of  influenza, 
at  that  time  prevailing  in  the  city.  Added  to  this  was  a  ges- 


MEADOW    BROOK. 

eral  debility  and  prostration  of  the  nerves,  brought  on  by  hoi 
recent  trouble  and  anxiety  concerning  Herbert. 

My  uncle,  who  was  always  alarmed  when  she  was  ill,  wished 
for  medical  advice;  but  to  this  she  objected,  as  Doctor  Mott, 
the  family  physician,  was  absent,  and  she  knew  of  no  othei 
whom  she  dare  trust.  Instantly  I  thought  of  Doctor  Clayton. 
,  If  she  could  be  prevailed  upon  to  employ  him,  I  knew  she 
'  would  like  him,  for  /  could  testify  to  his  extreme  kindness  in 
a  sick-room,  and  good  nursing  was  what  she  most  needed. 
When  I  .suggested  that  he  should  be  called,  she  at  first  re 
fused;  but  before  night,  being  much  worse,  she  consented, 
and  never  had  I  experienced  a  moment  of  greater  happiness 
than  when  I  hastened  to  the  kitchen  with  a  message  for  John, 
who  was  to  go  immediately  for  Doctor  Clayton.  Then  taking 
my  uncle  aside,  I  explained  to  him  the  straitened  circumstances 
of  the  young  physician,  hinting  to  him,  that  prompt  remunera 
tion  for  his  services  would  undoubtedly  be  acceptable. 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  understand,"  said  he;  "  you  want  me  to  pay 
him  to-day." 

Here  we  were  interrupted  by  the  ringing  of  the  boor-bell. 
Doctor  Clayton  had  come,  and  "the  result  was  as  I  had  hoped. 
My  aunt  was  greatly  pleased — he  was  so  kind  and  gentle, 
humoring  all  her  fancies,  and  evincing  withal  so  much  judg 
ment  and  skill,  that  she  felt  confidence  in  his  abilities;  and 
when  he  was  gone,  expressed  herself  as  preferring  him  even  to 
Doctor  Mott,  "who,"  she  said,  "  was  getting  old  and  cross." 
As  he  was  leaving  the.  house,  my  uncle  placed  in  his  hand  a 
five-dollar  bill,  whereupon  the  doctor  turned  very  red,  and 
asked  if  he  were  not  expected  to  call  again. 

"  Certainly,  certainly,"  said  my.  uncle,  who,  man-like, 
hadn't  the  least  bit  of  tact;  "  keep  coming  until  Charlotte  is 
well..  I  only  paid  you  for  this  call  to  please  Rosa." 
|  Instead  of  the  displeased,  mortified  look  which  I  expected 
j  to  see  on  the  doctor's  face,  there  was  an  expression  of  deep 
'gratitude,  as  he  turned  his  eyes  toward  me;  and  I  thought 
there  was  a  moisture  in  them,  which  surprised  me,  for  I  did 
not  then  know  how  much  that  five  dollars  was  needed:  it 
being  the  exact  amount  requisite  for  the  payment  of  the  yrl, 
who  refused  to  remain  with  them  another  day  unless  her  wages 
were  forthcoming.  To  such  straits  are  people,  apparently  in 
easy  circumstances,  sometimes  reduced. 

For  more  than  a  week  my  aunt  was  confined  to  her  room, 
while  the  doctor  came  regularly,  always  staying  a  long  time, 
and  by  his  delicate  attentions  winning  golden  laurels  from  his 
Dfttient.  who  was  far  better  nlflfl,SAd  with  him  than  with  the 


fussy  old  mar^  wV,  being  always  In  a  hurry,  only  stopped  for 
a  moment,  while  he  looked  at  her  tongue,  felt  her  pulse,  and 
recommended  blistering  and  bleeding,  with  a  dose  of  calomel, 
neither  of  which  Doctor  Clayton  believed  to  be  a  saving  ordi 
nance,  and  indispensable  to  the  comfort  and  recovery  of  his 
patients.  By  this,  I  do  not  mean  anything  derogatory  to  tl*e 
good  old  custom  of  torturing  folks  to  death  before  their  time, 
but  having  a  faint  remembrance  of  certain  blisters,  which,  to« 
gether  with  cabbage  leaves  and  the  tallowed  rags  once  kept 
me  in  a  state  of  torture  for  nearly  a  week,  to  say  nothing  o:f 
the  sore  mouth,  the  loose  teeth  and  the  tightly  bandaged  arm, 
I  can  not  help  experiencing  a  kind  of  nervous  tremor  at  the i 
Very  mention  of  said  prescriptions. 

Doctor  Clayton's  attendance  upon  my  aunt  was  a  great 
benefit  to  him,  as  through  its  means  he  became  known  to 
several  of  the  higher  circle,  who  began  to  employ  him,  so  that 
by  the  last  of  May,  the  time  when  I  left  Boston  for  Meadow 
"Brook,  he  had  quite  a  large  practice.  For  some  reason  or 
other,  Mrs.  Archer,  too,  sent  for  him  again;  and  as  he  had 
now  no  ten  thousand  dollars  in  prospect,  he  succeeded  in  pleas 
ing  the  whimsical  lady,  thereby  securing  her  patronage  for  a 
year  at  least.  Here,  for  a  time,  I  leave  them,  while  1  go  back 
to  the  dear  old  home  at  Meadow  Brook,  over  which  a  shadow 
dark  and  heavy  was  brooding. 

CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  OLD   HOMESTEAD. 

"  MEADOW  BROOK  Station!  Stop  five  minutes  for  refresh 
ments]"  shouted  the  conductor;  and  alighting  from  the  noisy, 
crowded  cars,  I  stood  once  more  in  my  own  native  town,  gaz 
ing  with  a  feeling  of  delight  upon  the  sunny  hills,  dotted  over 
with  the  old-fashioned  gable-roofed  houses,  and  upon  the 
green,  grassy  meadow,  through  which  rolled  the  blue  "vaters 
of  the  Chicopee.  I  had  not  stood  thus  long,  when  ^  broad 
hand  was  laid  upon  my  shoulder,  and  the  next  instant  my 
arms  were  around  the  neck  of  my  father,  who,  I  thoug1  i,  had 
changed  much  since  I  last  saw  him;  for  his  face  was  iuin  and 
pale,  while  threads  ox  silver  were  scattered  through  his  soft, 
uro\vn  hair. 

It  was  the  loss  of  Anna,  I  fancied;  and  when  we  at  last 
were  seated  in  the  buggy,  and  on  our  way  home,  I  hastened 
to  speak  of  her,  and  to  tell  him  of  the  favorable  report  we 
heard  of  Herbert.  But  naught  which  I  said  seemed  to  rouse 
bim;  and  at  last  I,  too,  frll  into  the  same  thoughtful  mood  in 


MEADOW    BROOK. 

which  even  old  Sorrel  shared,  for  he  moved  with  his  head 
down,  scarcely  once  leaving  the  slow,  measured  walk  he  had 
first  assumed.  When,  at  last,  we  reached  the  hill-top,  from 
which  could  be  seen  the  homestead,  with  its  maple-trees  in 
front^  and  a  long  row  of  apple-trees,  now  in  full  bloom,  in 
the  rear,  I  started  up,  exclaiming,  "  Home,  sweet  homeJ  It 
never  looked  half  so  beautiful  to  me  before." 

In  a  moment,  however,  I  checked  myself;  for  my  father 
groaned  aloud,  while  his  face  grew  whiter  than  before. 

"  What  is  it,  father,"  I  asked;  "  are  they  sick,  or  dead?" 

"  Neither,  neither,"  he  replied,  at  the  same  time  chirrup- 
rng  to  old  Sorrel,  who  pricked  up  his  ears,  and  soon  carried  us 
to  the  door  of  our  house,  where  I  was  warmly  greeted  by  all. 

And  still  there  was  in  what  they  said  and  did  an  air  of 
melancholy  which  puzzled  me;  and  when  I  was  alone  with 
Lizzie,  I  asked  her  the  cause  why  they  looked  so  bad?  Burst 
ing  into  tears,  she  replied,  "  This  is  not  our  home  any  longer. 
We  must  leave  it,  and  go,  we  don't  know  where — to  the  poor- 
house,  pa  sometimes  says,  when  he  feels  the  worst,  and  then 
grandma  cries  so  hard.  Oh,  it's  dreadful!" 

"  And  why  must  we  leave  it?"  I  asked;  and  Lizzie  an 
swered,  "  Pa  has  signed  notes  for  Uncle  Thomas,  who  has 
failed,  and  now  the  homestead  must  be  sold  to  pay  his  debts- — 
and  they  so  proud,  too!" 

It  was  as  Lizzie  had  said.  Uncle  Thomas  Harding  was  my 
mother's  brother,  who  lived  in  Providence,  in  far  greater 
style,  it  was  said,  than  he  was  able  to  support.  Several  times 
had  Aunt  Harding  visited  us,  together  with  her  two  daugh 
ters,  Ellen  and  Theodosia.  They  were  proud,  haughty  girls, 
and  evidently  looked  upon  us,  their  country  cousins,  with  con 
tempt,  only  tolerating  us  because  it  was  pleasant  to  have 
some  place  in  the  country  where  to  while  away  a  few  weeks, 
which,  in  the  heated,  dusty  city,  would  otherwise  hang  heav 
ily  upon  their  hands.  On  such  occasions  they  made  them 
selves  perfectly  at  home,  and  somehow  or  other  managed  to 
have  my  mother  feel  that  she  was  really  indebted  to  them  for 
the  honor  they  conferred  upon  her  by  calling  her  aunty,  or 
by  appropriating  to  themselves  the  greater  portion  of  the 
house,  by  skimming  the  cream  from  the  pans  of  milk,  by  eat 
ing  up  the  pie  she  had  saved  for  us  children  when  we  came 
hungry  and  cross  from  school,  and  by  keeping  old  Sorrel  con 
stantly  in  the  harness  or  under  the  saddle. 

In  return  for  all  this,  they  sometimes  gave  us  an  old  collar, 
a  silk  apron,  a  soiled  ribbon,  or  broken  parasol-— and  once, 
When  my  parents  visited  them,  thej  sent  us  a  trunkful  of  vnfc 


MEADOW    BROOK.  133 

bifih,  aioong  which  was  Fielding's  "  Tom  Jones!"  This  my 
grandmother  cautiously  took  from  the  trunk  with  the  tongs 
and  threw  into  the  fire,  thereby  creating  in  me  so  great  a  de 
sire  for  a  knowledge  of  its  contents,  that,  on  the  first  occasion 
which  presented  itself,  I  gratified  my  curiosity,  feeling,  when 
I  had  done  so,  that  my  grandmother  was  right  in  disposing  of 
the  volume  as  she  did.  Dear  old  lady!  her  aversion  to  every 
thing  savoring  of  fiction  was  remarkable,  and  \yhen  not  long 
since  '  a  certain  medium  informed  me  that  she — my  grand- 
,  mother — was  greatly  distressed  to  learn  that  I  had  so  far  de- 
^generated  as  to  be  writing  a  book,  I  thought  seriously  of  giv« 
-ing  up  my  project  at  once,  and  should  probably  have  done  so> 
had  not  another  medium  of  still  greater  power  than  the  first 
received  a  communication,  stating  that,  after  due  reflection, 
my  grandmother  had  concluded  that  "  I  might  continue  the, 
story  called  '  Meadow  Brook/  provided  I  showed  off  my  aunv, 
Harding  and  her  two  daughters  in  their  true  character."  So, 
as  a  dutiful  child,  it  becomes  me  to  tell  how  my  father,  wLic- 
was  warmly  attached  to  my  uncle  Thomas,  lent  him  money 
from  time  to  time,  and  signed  notes  to  the  amount  of  several 
thousand  dollars,  never  once  dreaming  that  in  the  end  he 
would  be  ruined,  wifile  my  uncle,  influenced  by  KiS  more 
crafty  wife,  managed  in  some  unaccountable  way  to  maintain 
nearly  the  same  style  of  living  as  formerly,  and  if  his  proud 
daughters  ever  felt  the  ills  of  poverty,  it  was  certainly  not  ap 
parent  in  the  rich  silks  and  costly  furs  which  they  continued 
to  sport. 

It  was  a  terrible  blow  to  us  all,  but  upon  no  one  did  it  fall 
BO  heavily  as  upon  my  father,  crushing  him  to  the  earth,  and 
rendering  him  nearly  as  powerless  as  is  the  giant  oak  when 
torn  from  its  parent  bed  by  the  wrathful  storm.  The  old 
homestead  was  endeared  to  him  by  a  thousand  hallowed  asso 
ciations.  It  was  the  home  of  ms  boyhood,  and  around  the 
cheerful  fires,  which  years  ago  were  kindled  on  its  spacious 
hearth-stone,  he  had  played  with  those  who  long  since  had 
passed  from  his  side,  some  to  mingle  in  the  great  drama  of 
life,  and  others  to  that  world  where  they  number  not  by  years. 
There,  too,  in  his  early  manhood  had  he  brought  his  bride,  my 
gentle  mother,  and  on  che  rough  bark  of  the  towering  maples, 
by  th?  side  of  his  own  and  his  brothers'  names,  were  carved 
those  of  his  children,  all  save  little  Jamie,  who  died  ere  his 
tiny  fingers  had  learned  the  use  of  knife  or  hammer.  No 
wonder,  then,  tnac  his  head  grew  dizzy  and  his  heart  sick  as 
he  thought  ol  leaving  it  forever;  and  when  at  last  the  trying 
moment  came,  when  with  trembling  liand  he  signed  the  deed 


MEADOW    BBOOK. 

which  made  him  homeless,  who  shall  deem  him  weak  if  he 
laid  his  weary  head  upon  the  lap  of  his  aged  mother  and  wept 
like  a  little  child? 

A  small  house  in  the  village  was  hired,  and  after  a  few 
weeks'  preparation,  one  bright  June  morning,  when  the  flow 
ers  we  had  watched  over  and  tended  with  care  were  in  bloom^ 
when  the  robins  which,  year  after  year  had  returned  to  their 
nests  iii  the  maple-tree,  were  singing  their  sweetest  songs,  and 
when  the  blue  sky  bent  gently  over  us,  we  bid  adieu  to  the; 
spot,  looking  back  with  wistful,  eyes  until  every  trace  of  GUI' 
home  had  disappeared.  Farewell  forever  to  thee,  dear  old 
homestead,  where  now  other  footsteps  tread  and  other  chil 
dren  play  than  those  of  "  auld  lang  syne."  The  lights  and 
shadows  of  years  have  fallen  upon  thee  since  that  sunnier 
morn,  and  with  them  have  come  changes  to  thee  as  well  as  to 
us.  Thi  maple,  whose  branches  swept  the  roof  above  my 
window,  making  oft  sad  music  when  tuned  by  the  autumn 
wind,  has  been  cut  away,  and  the  robins,  who  brought  to  us 
the  first  tidings  of  spring,  have  died  or  flown  to  other  Haunts. 
"  The  moss-covered  bucket  which  hung  in  the  well  "  has  been 
removed;  the  curb,  whose  edges  were  worn  by  childish  hands, 
is  gone;  while  in  place  of  the  violets  and  daisies  which  once 
blossomed  on  the  grassy  lawn,  the  thistle  and  the  burdock 
now  are  growing,  and  the  white  rose-bush  by  the  door,  from 
whence  they  plucked  the  buds  which  strewed  the  coffin-bed  of 
our  baby  brother,  is  dead.  Weeds  choke  the  garden  walks, 
and  the  moss  grows  green  and  damp  on  the  old  stone  wall. 
Even  the  brook  which  ran  so  merrily  past  our  door  has  been 
stopped  in  its  course,  and  its  sparkling  waters,  bereft  of  free 
dom,  now  turn  the  wheel  of  a  huge  saw-mill  with  a  low  and 
sullen  roar.  All  is  changed,  and  though  memory  still  turns 
fondly  to  the  spot  which  gave  me  birth,  I  have  learned  to  love 
another  home,  for  where,  my  blessed  mother  dwells  'tis  surely 
home  to  me.  By  her  side  there  is,  I  know,  a  vacant  chair, 
and  in  her  heart  a  lonely  void,  which  naught  on  earth  can  fill; 
but  while  she  lives,  and*  I  know  that  there  is  in  the  world  for 
me  a  mother  and  a  mother's  love,  can  I  not  feel  that  I  hav@ 
indeed  a  home,  though  it  be  not  the  spot  where  first  she 
blessed  me  as  her  child? 

CHAPTEK  XVI. 

"  OUT   WEST." 

Y/HAT  a  train  of  conflicting  ideas  do  those  two  words  often- 
tunes  awaken,  bringing  up  visions  of  log  cabins,  ladder  stairs, 


MEADOW   BROOK.  125 

wooden  latches,  fried  hominy  and  maple  sugar,  to  say  nothing 
of  the  hobgoblins  in  the  shape  of  bears,  rattlesnakes,  wolves. 
and  "  folks  who  don't  know  anything;"  the  latter  being  uni 
versally  considered  the  "  staple  production  "  of  every  place 
bearing  the  name  of  "  out  West."     Even  western  New  York, 
*.  with  her  hundreds  of  large  and  flourishing  villages,  her  well- 
^cultivated  farms,  her  numerous  schools,  her  educated,  intelli- 
'  gent  people,  and  her  vast  wealth,  is  looked  upon  with  distrust 
by  some   of  her  Eastern  neighbors,  because,  forsooth,  her 
boundaries  lie  further  toward  the  setting  sun,  and  because  she 
once  bore  the  title  of  "  way  out  west  in  the  Genesees." 

Of  course  I  speak  only  from  observation  and  personal  expe 
rience;  for  at  Meadow  Brook,  ten  years  ago,  many  fears  were 
expressed  lest  Anna  should  miss  the  society  to  which  she  had 
been  accustomed;  and  when  after  the  sale  of  the  homestead, 
she  wrote,  asking  me  to  come  and  live  with  her,  I  hesitated, 
for  to  me  it  seemed  much  like  burying  myself  from  the  world, 
particularly  as  she  chanced  to  mention  that  the  school-house 
was  a  Jog  one,  and  that  there  were  in  the  neighborhood  sev 
eral  buildings  of  the  same  material.  Never  having  seen  any 
thing  of  the  kind,  I  could  not  then  understand  that  there  is 
often  in  a  log  house  far  more  comfort  and  genuine  happiness 
than  in  the  stateliest  mansion  which  graces  Fifth  Avenue  or 
Beacon  Street;  and  that  the  owners  of  said  dwellings  are  fre 
quently  worth  their  thousands,  and  only  wait  for  a  convenient 
opportunity  to  build  a  more  commodious  and  imposing  resi 
dence. 

At  last,  after  many  consultations  with  my  parents,  I  conclud 
ed  to  go,  and  about  the  middle  of  November  I  again  bid  adieu 
to  Meadow  Brook;  and  in  company  with  a  friend  of  father,  who 
was  going  West,  I  started  for  Rockland,  N.  Y. ,  which  is  in 
Nthe  western  part  of  Ontario  County,  and  about  fourteen  miles 
frfrom  Canandaigua,  at  which  place  Herbert  was  to  meet  me. 
I  had  never  before  been  west  of  Springfield,  and  when  about 
sun .^et  I  looked  out  upon  the  delightful  prospect  around  Al 
bany,  I  felt  a  thrill  of  delight  mingled  with  a  feeling  of  pain, 
for  I  began  to  have  a  vague  impression  that  possibly  Massa 
chusetts,  with  all  her  boasted  privileges,  could  not  outrival 
the  Empire  State.  It  was  dark,  and  the  night  lamps  were 
already  lighted  when  we  entered  the  cars  at  Albany;  for  we 
were  to  ride  all  night.  In  front  of  us  was  an  unoccupied  seat, 
which  I  turned  toward  me  for  the  better  accommodation  of 
my  band-box,  which  contained  my  new  bonnet,  and  I  was 
about  settling  myself  for  a  nap.  when  a  gentleman  and  lady 
eame  in,  the  latter  of  whoia  stopping  near  us.  sail.  "  Hers. 


MEADOW,  BROOK. 

Richard^  is  a  vacant  seat.  These  folks  can't  of  course  expect 
to  monopolize  two;"  at  the  same  time  she  commenced  turn 
ing  the  seat  back,  to  the  great  peril  of  my  bonnet,  which,  as 
it  was  made  in  Boston,  I  confidently  expected  would  be  the 
envy  and  fashion  of  all  Rockland! 

I  was  sitting  with  my  hand  over  my  eyes,  but  at  the  sound 
of  that  voice  I  started,  and,  looking  up,  saw  before  me  Ada 
Montrose,  and  with  her  the  "  dark  gentleman  "  who  had  so 
much  interested  me  at  the  theater.  Instantly*throwing  my 
veil  over  my  face,  for  I  had  no  wish  to  be  recognized,  I 
watched  him  with  a  feeling  akin  to  jealousy,  while  he  attend 
ed  to  the  comfort  of  his  companion,  who  demeaned  herself 
toward  him  much  as  she  had  dohe  toward  Herbert  Langley. 
All  thoughts  of  sleep  had  left  me,  and  throughout  the  entire 
night  I  was  awake,  speculating  upon  the  probable  relation  in 
which  he  stood  to  her;  and  once  when  it  suddenly  occurred  to 
me  that  possibly  they  were  married,  the  tears  actually  started 
to  my  eyes. 

As  the  hours  sped  on,  he  said  to  her  a  few  low-spoken 
words,  whereupon  she  laid  her  head  upon  his  shoulder,  as  if 
that  were  its  natural  resting-place,  while  he  threw  his  arm 
around  her,  bidding  her  "  sleep  if  she  could."  Of  course  she 
was  his  wife,  I  said,  and  with  much  of  bitterness  at  my  heart, 
I  turned  away  and  watched  the  slowly  moving  lights  of  the 
canal-boats,  discernible  on  the  opposite  side  01  the  Mohawk, 
along  whose  banks  we  were  passing.  "Whether  Ada  liked  her 
pillow  or  not,  she  clung  to  it  pertinaciously  until  it  seemed  to 
me  that  her  neck  must  snap  asunder,  while  with  a  martyr's 
patience  he  supported  her,  dozing  occasionally  himself,  and 
bending  his  head  so  low  that  his  glossy  black  hair  occasionally 
touched  the  white  brow  of  the  sleeping  girl. 

"  Bride  and  groom,"  I  heard  a  rough-looking  man  mutter, 
as  he  passed  them  in  quest  of  a  seat;  and  as  this  confirmed 
my  fears,  I  again  turned  toward  the  window,  which  I  opened, 
so  that  the  night  air  might  cool  my  burning  cheeks. 

That  night  I  made  up  my  mind  to  be  an  "  old  maid." 
Nobody  would  ever  want  me,  I  knew,  I  was  so  homely;  and 
with  calm  resignation  I  thought  how  much  good  I  would  do 
in  the  world,  and  how  I  would  honor  the  sisterhood.  Very 
slowly  the  morning  light  came  struggling  in  through  the  dirty 
windows,  rousing  the  weary  passengers,  who,  rubbing  their 
red-rimmed  eyes,  looked  around  to  see  who  their  companions 
were.  It  was  nearly  noon  when  we  reached  Canandaigua,  and 
so  carefully  had  I  kept  my  face  hidden  from  view  that  Ada 
bad  no  suspicion  whatever  of  my  presence.  At  Canandaigua 


MEADOW    BKOOK. 

I  cook  leave  oi  my  companion,  and  stepping  out  upon  the 
platform  in  front  of  the  depot,  looked  anxiously  around  for 
Herbert,  but  he  was  not  there.  Thinking  he  would  soon  be 
there,  I  found  my  way  to  the  public  parlor,  which  for  a  few 
moments  I  occupied  alone.  I  had  just  removed  my  dusty 
bonnet,  and  was  brushing  my  tangled  hair,  when  the  door 
opened,  and  I  stood  face  to  face  with  Ada  Montrose,  who 
started  back,  and  for  a  moment  evidently  debated  the  pro 
priety  of  recognizing  me.  Thinking  she  might  do  just  as  she 
pleased,  I  simply  nodded,  as  I  would  to  anv  stranger,  and. 
vent  on  with  my  toilet,  while  throwing  herself  upon  the  sofa, 
*he  exclaimed,  "  Dear  me,  how  tired  I  am!  Do  you  live 
here?" 

"  Of  course  not,"  I  answered;  "  I  am  on  my  way  to  visit 
my  sister  Anna,  whom  you  perhaps  remember." 

She  turned  very  red,  and  replied  by  asking  if  I  were  in  the 
train  which  had  just  passed. 

"  Yes,"  I  answered,  "  I  occupied  the  seat  behind  you  and — 
your  husband — is  it  not?" 

I  felt  that  I  must  know  the  truth,  and  hence  the  rather  im~ 
pertinent  question,  which,  however,  did  not  seem  to  displease 
her  in  the  least.  Affecting  to  be  a  little  embarrassed,  she 
said,  "  Not  my  husband — yet.  He  came  on  to  Boston  to  ac 
company  me  home,  and  wishing  to  see  a  friend  of  his  who 
lives  here,  we  have  stopped  over  one  train." 

I  know  not  why  it  was,  but  her  words  gave  me  comfort; 
while  at  the  same  time  the  state  of  single  blessedness  appeared 
to  me  far  less  attractive  than  it  had  a  few  hours  before.  I 
was  on  the  point  of  asking  her  about  my  aunt,  when  the  door 
again  opened  and  there  stood  before  us  a  slovenly  looking 
man,  attired  in  a  slouched  hat,  muddy  pantaloons,  gray  coat, 
and  huge  cowhide  boots.  So  complete  was  the  metamor 
phosis  that  neither  of  us  recognized  him,  until  he  had  ex 
claimed,  as  his  eye  fell  upon  Ada,  "  Good  heavens,  Ada! 
How  came  you  here?"  Then  we  knew  it  was  Herbert  Lang- 
ley. 

So  astonished  was  I  that  it  was  some  time  ere  I  found  voice 
to  return  his  rather  noisy  greeting.  Try  as  he  would,  he 
could  not  conceal  the  fact  that  he  was  rather  disconcerted  at 
being  seen  by  Ada  in  such  a  plight,  and  after  a  little  he  stam 
mered  out  an  apology,  saying  he  was  a  farmer  now,  and  lived 
in  the  country,  and  of  course  could  not  be  expected  to  dress 
as  he  used  in  the  city.  This,  I  knew,  was  no  excuse,  and  J 
trembled  lest  he  might  be  changed  in  more  points  than  one. 


MEADOW    BROOK. 

"  How  is  your  wife,  Mrs.  Langley?"  asked  Ada  in  a  mock 
ing,  deferential  tone. 

Instantly  the  whol<3  expression  of  Herbert's  face  was 
changed,  and  there  was  a  look  of  tenderness  and  pride  in  his 
eyes  as  he  advanced  toward  Ada,  and  whispered  in  her  ear 
something  which  I  did  not  understand.  Whatever  it  was,  it 
made  her  blush,  as  she  replied,  rather  sneeringly,  "  Of  course 
I  congratulate  you." 

It  has  always  been  my  misfortune  to  be  rather  stupid  in 
some  matters,  and  I  had  not  the  least  idea  what  either  of 
them  meant,  or  why  Herbert  was  to  be  congratulated.  Pos 
sibly  I  might  have  asked  an  explanation,  but  just  then  the 
town  clock  struck  the  hour  of  one,  and  turning  toward  me,  he 
said  it  was  time  we  were  on  our  way5  for  the  fall  rains  had 
made  the  roads  almost  impassable,  and  he  was  afraid  we  should 
not  reach  home  before  dark.  "  So  put  on  your  things  quick, " 
he  added.  "  The  carriage  is  all  ready." 

This  last  he  said  laughingly,  for  the  carriage  proved  to  be  a 
long  lumber  wagon,  such  as  is  seldom  found  in  Massachusetts, 
or,  at  least,  /  had  never  seen  one  like  it  before,  and  it  became 
a  serious  question  in  my  mind  as  to  how  I  was  expected  to 
enter  it,  there  being  no  possible  way  of  doing  so  save  by  climb 
ing  over  the  wheels,  which  were  reeking  with  mud.  Herbert 
seemed  to  enjoy  my  embarrassment,  for  he  asked  me  if  "  I 
didn't  think  1  could  step  .from  the  ground  into  the  box?"  a 
distance  of  several  feet.  I  was  soon  relieved  from  my  diffi 
culty  by  the  porter,  who  placed  before  me  some  wooden  steps, 
on  which  I  mounted  safely,  and  seated  myself  in  the  large 
arm-chair,  which,  with  its  warm  buffalo  robes,  was  really 
more  comfortable  than  the  old-fashioned  one-horse  wagons  of 
New  England,  though  I  did  not  think  so  then;  and  when  the 
spirited  horses,  at  a  crack  from  Herbert's  whip,  sprung  for 
ward,  while  I,  losing  my  balance,  pitched  over  backward,  I 
began  to  cry,  wishing  in  my  heart  that  I  was  back  in  Meadow 
Brook. 

It  was  a  cold,  raw,  autumnal  day.  The  roads,  as  Herbert 
had  said,  were  horrible;  and  as  we  plowed  through  the  thick 
mud,  which,  in  some  places  was  up  to  the  wheel  hubs,  I  took, 
I  believe,  my  first  lesson  in  genuine  home-sickness,  which,  in 
my  opinion,  is  about  as  hard  to  bear  as  love-sickness.  Indeed, 
I  think  they  feel  much  alike — the  latter  being,  perhaps,  a 
very  little  the  worse  of  the  two.  It  was  in  vain  that  Herbert 
pointed  out  to  me  the  many  handsome  farm-houses  which  AVO 
passed,  expatiating  upon  the  richness  and  fertility  of  the  soil, 
and  telling  me  how  greatly  superior  in  everything  New  Yorjj 


MEADOW    BROOK. 

was  to  New  England.  I  scarcely  heard  him,  for  even  though 
in  all  Massachusetts  there  was  naught  save  the  rocky  hills 
and  sterile  plains,  it  was  my  home,  and  from  that  spot  tha 
heart  can.  not  easily  be  weaned. 

Rockland  is  a  large,  wealthy  town,  embracing  within  its 
L'niits  more  than  the  prescribed  rule  of  six  miles  square,  while 
scattered  through  it  are  two  or  three  little  villages,  each  bear 
ing  a  distinct  name,  by  which  they  are  known  abroad.  First, 
there  was  Laurel  Hill,  famed  as  the  residence  of  certain  fami 
lies  who  were  styled  proud  and  aristocratic — to  say  nothing  of 
their  being  Episcopalians,  which  last  fact  was  by  some  regard 
ed  as  the  main  cause  of  their  haughtiness.  Next  came  the 
"  Center,"  with  its  group  of  red  houses,  and  its  single  spire, 
so  tall,  so  straight,  and  so  square,  that  it  scarce  needed  the 
lettering  over  the  entrance  to  tell  to  the  stranger  that  Presby 
terians  worshiped  there.  Lastly  came  Flattville,  by  far  the 
largest  village  in  Rockland,  and  the  home  of  all  the  "  isms  " 
in  the  known  world.  To  the  south  of  Flattville  is  a  small 
lake,  renowned  for  its  quiet  beauty,  and  the  picturesque  wild- 
ness  of  its  shores.  Bounded  on  three  sides  by  high  Iiiils.  its 
waters  sleep  calmly  in  the  sunlight  of  summer,  or  dash  angrily 
upon  the  sandy  beach,  when  moved  by  the  chill  breath  of  win 
ter. 

On  the  brow  of  one  of  the  high  hills  which  overlook  the 
Honeoye,  and  so. near  to  it  that  the  sweep  of  the  waves  can  be 
distinctly  heard  in  a  clear,  still  night,  stood  the  home  of  my 
sister.  It  was  a  huge,  wooden  building  containing  "rooms 
innumerable,  while  even  the  basement  was  large  enough  to 
accommodate  one  or  more  families.  Being  the  first  frame 
house  erected  in  the  town,  it  was  of  course  looked  upon  with 
considerable  interest,  and  as  if  to  make  it  still  more  notorious, 
it  bore  the  reputation  of  being  haunted,  and  by  some  of  the 
neighbors  it  was  called  the  Haunted  Castle. 

Years  before,  when  the  country  was  new,  it  was  a  sort  of 
public-house,  and  a  young  girl  was  said  to  have  been  murdered 
there,  and  buried  in  the  cellar,  from  whence  she  was  after 
ward  removed  and  thrown  into  the  lake.  For  the  truth  of 
this  story  there  was  no  proof,  save  the  fact  that  in  the  dark 
cellar  there  was  a  slight  excavation,  supposed  to  have  been  the 
grave  of  the  ill-fated  lady.  All  this  Herbert  very  kindly  told 
me,  as  we  rode  leisurely  along,  saying,  when  1  asked  if  he  be 
lieved  it,  "  Believe  it!  No!  Of  course  not.  To  be  sure,  it's 
the  squeakiest  old  rattle-trap  of  a  house  that  I  ever  saw;  and 
were  I  at  all  superstitious,  1"  could  readily  believe  it  haunf,ed^ 
Darticularlv  when  the  wind  blows  hard.  Rut  von  art*  i>af 


130  MEADOW    BftOOft. 

frightened,  are  you?"  be  asked,  looking  in  my  face,  which 
was  very  pale. 

I  hold  that  there  is  in  every  human  breast  a  dread  of  the 
supernatural,  and  though  I  do  11  ot  by  any  means  believe  in 
ghosts,  I  would  certainly  prefer  Dot  to  live  in  a  house  where 
they  are  supposed  to  dwell.  Still,  I  dared  not  tell  Herbert  so, 
and,  consequently,  I  only  laughed  at  the  idea  of  a  haunted 
house,  saying  it  was  very  romantic1.  It  was  after  sunset  when 
we  at  last  turned  into  the  long  avenue,  shaded  on  either  side 
by  forest  maples,  which  the  first  proprietor  of  the  place  had 
suffered  to  remain;  and  as  my  eye  fell  upon  the  large,  dark 
building,  which  Herbert  said  was  his  house,  I  involuntarily 
shuddered,  for  to  me  it  seemed  the  very  spot  of  all  others 
which  goblins  would  choose  for  theiv  nightly  revels.  The 
wind  was  blowing  from  the  west ,  and  as  I  followed  Herbert 
up  to  the  door,  my  ear  caught  a  dull,  moaning  sound,  which 
caused  me  to  quicken  my  footsteps,  while  I  asked,  in  some 
trepidation,  what  it  was. 

"  That?  Oh,  that's  the  roar  of  the  lake.  Don't  you  see 
now  near  it  is  to  us,  directly  at  the  foot  of  the  hill?"  and  he 
pointed  out  to  me  the  broad  sheet  of  water,  just  discernible  in 
the  gathering  darkness. 

A  sudden  gust  of  wind  swept  past  me,  and  again  I  caught 
the  Jo  w  murmur.  There  was  something  human  in  the  tone, 
and  though  for  three  years  I  almost  daily  heard  that  sound,  I 
could  never  fully  rid  myself  of  ths  impression  that  it  was  the 
spirit  of  the  murdered  maiden  vhicb  thus,  to  the  swelling 
waves,  complained  of  the  crime  long  unpunished. 

"  Come  this  way,  Rosa,'7  said  Herbert,  as  I  entered  the 
narrow  "entry"  so  common  in  old-fashioned  houses;   and 
following  him,  I  was  soon  ushered  into  a  large  square  room, ; 
v/here  a  bright  "wood  fire  was  Mazing,  casting  a  somewhat^ 
cheerful  aspect  over  the  somber,  wainscoted  walls  of  ancien» 
make. 

Tn  one  corner  of  the  room  was  a  bed,  and  on  it  lay  Annaj| 
who,  the  moment  she  saw  me,  uttered  a  cry  of  joy. 

"  Have  you  told  her?"  she  asked  of  Herbert,  when  the  first 
pleasure  of  our  meeting  was  over. 

He  replied  in  the  negative,  whereupon  she  brought  up  from 
under  a  pile  of  pillows,  coverlids,  blankets  and  sheets  a  little, 
dny,  red-faced,,  wrinkled  thing  to  which  she  said  I  was  aunt! 
I  knew  then  why  Ada  congratulated  Herbert,  and  mentally 
chiding  myself  for  my  stupidity,  I  took  th  bundle  of  cambric 
and  flannel  in  my  arms,  wbils  Anna  said,  "  We  call  him  Jamio 
Lee,  and  we  think  he  looks  like  you.  Isn't  he  a  beauty?" 


MEADOW    BROOIC.  131 

fie  did  look  like  me,  and  knowing  that,  I  wondered  at 
Anna's  question;  but  where  is  the  young  mother  who  think i 
her  first-born  baby  homely,  though  his  nose  be  flat,  his  fore 
head  low,  and  his  mouth  extend  from  ear  to  ear?  Not  Anna, 
most  certainly.  He  was  her  baby  and  Herbert's,  and  to  her 
partial  eyes  he  was  beautiful,  even  though  he  did  resemble 
me,  whom  but  erie  person  had  ever  called  pretty.  As  for,- 
myself,  I  hardly  knew  whether*  to  be  pleased  with  my  new 
relative  or  not-  Babies,  particularly  little,  tiny  ones,  had' 
never  been  my  special  delight,  but  on  thiu  -occasion,  feeling 
that  some  demonstration  was  expected  from  me,  I  kissed  my 
little  nephew,  who  returned  my  greeting  with  a  wry  face  and 
an  outcry  so  loud  that  Anna,  in  great  alarm  lest  he  was 
"  going  into  a  fit,"  summoned  from  the  kitchen,  where  she 
was  enjoying  a  quiet  smoke,  Aunty  Matson,  who  boasted  of 
having  washed  and  dressed  two  hundred  and  fifty  babies,  and 
who  confidently  expected  to  do  the  same  service  for  two  hun 
dred  and  fifty  more  ere  her  life's  sun  was  set. 

Wearied  with  my  ride,  I  asked  permission  to  retire  early; 
whereupon  Dame  Matson  volunteered  to  show  me  the  way  to 
my  room.  Up  the  narrow  stairs,  which  creaked  at,  every  step, 
and  on  through  one  gloomy  room  after  another,  she  led  me 
until,  at  last,  we  came  to  a  chamber,  lighter  and  more  airy, 
which,  she  said,  my  sister  had  papered,  painted,  and  fitted  up 
for  me;  adding,  as  she  set  the  candle  upon  the  table  and  closed 
the  window,  "  You  ain't  afraid  of  spooks  nor  nothin'?" 

"  Spooks  "  was  a  new  word,  and  in  some  surprise  I  asked 
what  she  meant. 

"  Now,  du  tell,"  she  replied,  seating  herself  upon  the  foot 
of  the  bed.  "  Now,  du  tell  a  body  where  you  was  brought 
up,  that  you  don't  kn^v  what  a  spook  is!  Why;  it's  a 
sperrit — a  ghost — and  this  house,  they  say,  is  full  on  'em. 
But  I  don't  b'lieve  a  word  on't.  S'posin'  a  gal  was  murdered 
near  forty  years  ago,  'tain't  likely  she  haunts  the  place  yet, 
and  then,  too,  she  warn't  none  o'  the  best  o'  girls,  I  guess,' 
from  what  I've  heard  my  mother  say." 

The  wind  was  blowing  hard,  and  as  Darne  Matson  uttered 
these  last  words,  the  door,  which  she  had  left  ajar,  came  to 
gether  with  a  bang,  while  from  the  lake  I  heard  again  the 
wailing  cry,  which,  this  time,  had  in  it  an  angry  tone,  as  if 
the  maiden  were  indignant  at  the  wrong  done  her  by  the  old 
dame,  whose  eyes  seemed  to  expand  and  grow  blacker  at  the 
sound.  Overcome  as  I  was  with  fatigue,  I  could  not  sleep; 
and  for  hours  I  lay  awake,  listening  to  the  rain  as  it  fell  upon 
the  roof,  and  to  the  howling;  wind,  which  indeed  produced 


MEAfcOW    BROOK:. 

the  most  unearthly  noises  I  had  ever  heard.  At  last,  how* 
ever,  nature  could  no  longer  endure,  and  I  fell  into  a  dee$ 
slumber,  from  which  I  did  not  awake  until  the  sun  was  higli 
up  in  the  heavens,  and  preparations  were  going  forward  in 
the  kitchen  for  dinner,  which  was  served  exactly  at  twelve0 
Greatly  refreshed,  I  was  ready  to  laugh  at  my  fears  of  the 
night  previous;  and  with  childish  joy  I  explored  every  nook 
^and  corner  of  the  old  castle;  finding  many  a  rat-hole,  which 
?threw  some  light  on  the  sounds  over  my  head,  wh\ch  I  had 
likened  to  the  trampling  of  horses. 

It  took  but  a  few  days  for  me  to  discover  that  Herbert  was 
exceedingly  popular  at  Breeze  Hill,  as  the  neighborhood  in 
which  he  lived  was  called.  His  free,  social  manners  had  won 
for  him  many  friends,  and  made  him  almost  too  much  of  a 
favorite.  At  least,  I  used  to  think  so,  during  the  long  winter 
evenings,  when  Anna  sat  with  her  baby  upon  her  lap,  listen 
ing  for  the  footsteps  of  her  husband,  who,  at  some  neighbor's 
fireside,  was  cracking  the  merry  joke  and  quaffing  the 
sparkling  cider,  which,  at  Breeze  Hill,  was  considered  essen 
tial  to  hospitality.  Gradually,  too,  as  the  winter  wore  on, 
my  sister's  eye  took  the  anxious  expression  I  had  so  often  seen 
in  my  aunt  Charlotte;  and  sometimes,  when  he  stayed  fron> 
her  longer  than  usual,  she  would  steal  down  to  the  foot  of  the 
long  avenue,  and  there,  alone,  would  wait  and  listen  for  her 
husband's  coming,  while  the  spirit  from  the  lake  would  whis 
per  sadly  in  her  ear  of  the  darkness  and  desolation  hovering 
near.  And  all  this  time  Herbert  professed  to  be  strictly  tem 
perate;  and  when,  about  the  middle  of  March,  a  traveling 
lecturer  held  forth  in  the  old  log  school-house,  thundering  hia 
anathemas  against  the  use  of  all  spirituous  liquors,  Herbert 
\vas  the  most  zealous  of  all  his  listeners,  and  at  the  close  ol 
tlie  lecture,  arose  himself  and  addressed  the  assembly,  pour 
ing  out  such  a  tide  of  eloquence  as  astonished  the  audience, 
who  rent  the  air  with  shouts  of  "  Lang-ley  forever!" 
.  Knowing  this,  I  was  greatly  surprised,  after  our  returu 
mome5  to  see  the  oun  orator  go  up  to  the  sideboard  and 


drink  off,  at  one  draught,  a  goblet  of  the  porter  which  had 
been  ordered  for  Anna.  She  saw  it,  too,  and  for  an  instant 
her  face  was  pressed  against  that  of  her  sleeping  boy;  and 
when  next  the  lamp-light  fell  upon  it,  I  saw  there  traces 
of  tears,  while  a  faint  smile  played  around  her  mouth,  as  she 
said,  "  I  am  afraid,  Herbert,  your  audience  would  hardly 
think  your  theory  and  practice  agree,  could  they  see  you  now." 
The  words  were  ill-timed,  for  they  awoke  the  young  man's 
resentment,  and  with  a  flushed  brow  he  retorted  angrilVt  that 


MEADOW    BROOK.  133 

1 :  If  porter  were  good  for  her.,  it  was  for  him;  he  saw  no  dif 
ference  between  a  drinking  woman  -and  a  drinking  man;  ex 
cept,  indeed,  that  the  former  was  the  most  despicable." 

The  next  morning,  the  bottles  of  porter  were  gone  from  the 
sideboard;  but  out  in  the  orchard,  where  the  grass  Of  an  early 
spring  w'lis  just  starting  into  life,  they  lay  shattered  in  a  hun 
dred  pieces.  Would,  oh,  would  that  she,  the  wife  of  little 
more  than  a  year,  could  thus  easily  have  broken  the  habits  of 
him  she  loved  better  than  her  life!  But  it  could  not  be;  and 
all  through  the  bright  spring  days  she  drooped,  and  faded, 
and  struggled  hard  to  keep  from  me  the  fatal  truth;  and  when 
the  warm  breath  of  summer  was  over  all  the  land,  when  the 
robins'  song  was  heard  in  the  maple-trees,  and  the  roses  blos 
somed  by  the  open  door,  they  brought  no  gladness  to  her 
heart,  no  love-light  to  her,  eye  save  when  she  looked  upon  her 
baby,  now  a  playful  handsome  child,  the  pet  and  idol  of  the 
house. 

At  last,  Aunt  Charlotte  wrote  to  me,  asking  to  be  assured 
of  her  son's  safety;  and  then  poor  Anna  begged  me  not  to  tell 
that  the  wine-cup  was  his  companion  at  morn,  his  solace  at 
noon,  and  his  comfort  at  night.  Yielding  to  her  entreaties,  I 
answered  evasively;  and  thus  the  shock,  when  it  came  to  that 
mother's  heart, was  harder  far  to  bear,  from  the  perfect  security 
she  had  felt.  At  Meadow  Brook,  too,  they  little  dreamed  how 
their  absent  daughter  wept  and  prayed  over  her  fallen  hus 
band,  who,  day  after  day,  made  rapid  strides  down  the  road 
to  death;  for,  on  her  bended  knees,  Anna  implored  me  to 
keep  her  shame  a  secret  yet  a  little  longer;  and  with  this  re 
quest  I  also  complied,  doing  whatever  I  could  to  smooth  the 
tfiorny  pathway  she  was  treading. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE    DARK    MAN. 

THE  long  summer  days  had  merged  into  autumn,  whose 
hazy  breath  floated  like  a  misty  veil  over  the  distant  hills. 
Slowly  and  noiselessly  the  leaves  were  dropping  one  by  one 
from  the  maple-trees,  strewing  the  withered  grass  with  a  car, 
pet  of  gorgeous  hue.  The  birds  had  sung  their  farewell  song 
to  their  summer  nests,  and  were  off  for  a  warmer  clime,  while 
here  and  there  busy  hands  and  feet  were  seen  gathering  in  the 
autumnal  stores. 

On 'Herbert's  farm,  however,  there  was  a  look  of  decay. 
The  yellow  corn  and  golden  pumpkins  were  yet  in  the  field; 
the  apples  lay  in  heapb  upon  the  ground;  the  gates  swung 


134  MEADOW    BKOOK 

loosely  in  tae  wind;  while  the  horses,  uncared  for  and  unfed, 
neighed  piteously  in  their  stalls,  as  if  asking  why  they  were 
thus  neglected.  Alas!  their  master  was  a  drunkard!  Anna 
was  a  drunkard's  wife,  and  mine  a  drunkard's  home!  It  was 
no  longer  a  secret  there,  and  the  old  men  shook  their  headsf 
"while  the  young  men  sighed  to  think  how  he  had  fallen. 
Night  after  night  we  sat  up  for  him,  my  sister  and  I  lifting 
him  from  the  threshold  across  which  he  would  fall,  and  bear 
ing  him  to  his  bed,  where  we  would  lay  him  beside  his  inno 
cent  son,  whose  blue  eyes  often  opened  with  wonder  at  being 
thus  disturbed.  A  night's  debauch  was  always  followed  by  a 
day  of  weakness  and  debility,  in  which  he  was  incapable  of 
exertion,  and  so  everything  seemed  on  the  verge  of  ruin,  when 
he  suddenly  conceived  the  idea  of  advertising  for  an  efficient 
man,  who  would  take  the  «ntii-e  charge  of  affairs  and  relieve 
him  from  all  care. 

About  this  time  I  went  back  to  Meadow  Brook  for  a  few 
weeks  to  be  present  at  the  bridal  of  my  oldest  sister.  Anna, 
too,  was  urged  to  accompany  me;  but  she  declined,  extorting 
from  me  a  promise  that  if  it  were  possible  I  would  not  divulge 
the  real  state  of  things.  "  Tell  them  I  am  happy,  and  do 
not  regret  what  I  have  done,"  said  she,  as  she  followed  me 
down  to  the  gate. 

"  And  would  that  be  true?"  I  asked,  looking  her  in  the 
face. 

For  an  instant  she  hesitated,  while  her  pale  cheeks  flushed, 
and  the  tears  started  to  her  eyes;  then  glancing  at  little  Jamie, 
whom  she  held  in  her  arms,  she  answered,  "  Yes,  it  would  be 
true.  I  do  not  regret  it.  I  had  rather  be  Herbert's  wife  as 
he  is  than  not  to  have  been  his  wife  at  all." 

Ah!  who  can  fathom  the  depths  of  woman's  love,  and  what 
punishment  shall  be  sufficient  for  him  who  wantonly  tramples 
upon  it?  Thus  I  thought  as  I  turned  away  from  my  sister, 
pondering  upon  her  words  long  after  I  reached  the  cars,  and 
wondering  if  I  should  ever  love  as  she  did.  Involuntarily  the 
doctor  rose  up  before  me — a  drunkard,  and  I  his  wife,  and 
from  my  inmost  soul  I  answered,  "  Rather  death  than  that!" 
Then,  though  I  blushed  as  I  did  so,  I  fancied  myself  the  wife 
-of  "  the  dark  man,"  and  he  a  drunkard.  "  Yes,  I  could  bear 
that,"  I  said;  and  as  if  to  make  the  old  adage  true,  that  a 
certain  individual  is  always  near  when  we  are  talking  about 
him,  the  car  door  opened  and  the  subject  of  my  meditations 
stood  before  me.  There  was  no  mistaking  him.  The  same 
tall,  manly  form,  the  piercing  eyes,  the  coal  black  hair,  and 

r.nf,   HptwAAn    f/hp   AVAhrnws        T   knp.w  him  in  A 


MEADOW    BROOK.  '.33 

moment,  and  an  exclamation  of  surprise  escaped  my  rtjps. 
which,  however,  was  lost  by  the  rush  of  the  cars.  The  seats 
w«re  nearly  all  occupied,  and  as  he  passed  down  the  aisle,  my 
readers,  I  trust,  will  pardon  me  if  I  did  gather  up  the  skirfc 
of  my  dress  and  take  my  traveling-bag  upon  my  lap,  while  I 
myself  sat  nearer  to  the  window,  looking  out  in  order  to  hid* 
my  face,  which  I  thought  possibly  might  not  attract  him. 

66  Is  this  seat  occupied,  miss?"  said  »  heavy  voice,  which 
seemed  to  come  from  some  far-off  region. 

"  No,  sir,"  I  answered,  timidly,  without  venturing  to  turn 
Jmy  head,  until  I  felt  myself  uncomfortably  crowded;  then  I 
'looked  around,  and  behold!  the  dark  stranger  was  sitting  be 
hind  me  near  the  door,  while  at  my  side  was  a  man  of  mam 
moth  dimensions,  with  immense  mustache,  watery  eyes,  and  a 
brandy  breath  flavored  with  tobacco. 

I  wanted  to  cry,  and  should  probably  have  done  so  had  not 
my  companion  immediately  commenced  a  conversation  by 
asking  "  if  I  had  come  very  far,  and  where  I  was  going?" 

He  was  exceedingly  loquacious,  and  for  several  hours  plied 
me  with  questions  as  to  my  own  name,  my  parents,  my  grand 
parents,  my  brothers,  my  sisters,  our  standing  in  the  world, 
our  religion,  our  politics,  and  our  opinion  of  spiritualism,  of 
which  last  he  was  a  zealous  advocate.  At  length,  just  as  it 
was  growing  dark,  he  gathered  up  his  huge  proportions,  and 
to  my  great  joy  bid  me  adieu,  expressing  his  regret  at  leaving 
me.  and  also  assuring  me  that  I  would  one  day  be  a  medium! 
which  assumption  he  based  upon  the  fact  of  my  having  ad 
mitted  that  sometimes  when  falling  away  to  sleep  I  started 
suddenly  and  awoke.  This,  he  said,  was  a  spirit  shock,  and 
would  in  the  end  lead  to  great  results. 

About  nine  o'clock  we  stopped  for  refreshments,  and  on  re- 
entering  the  cars,  I  found  to  my  joy  that  the  dark  stranger's 
seat  was  appropriated  by  a  son  of  Erin,  who  seemed  nowise 
inclined  to  surrender  it,  inasmuch  as  he  had  with  him  his  wife, ' 
baby,  and  bundle.  This  time  the  fates  were  propitious,  for 
after  looking  around  him  awhile,  the  stranger  asked  permis 
sion  to  sit  by  me,  saying  he  should  not  discommode  me  more 
than  two  or  three  hours,  as  by  that  time  he  hoped  to  reach  his 
journey's  end,  a  remark  which  gave  me  more  pain  than  pleas 
ure,  for  every  nerve  thrilled  with  joy  at  being  thus  near  to 
one  who,  though  an  entire  stranger,  possessed  for  me  a  par 
ticular  attraction.  It  was  quite  dark  where  we  sat,  and  the 
night  lamp  burned  but  dimly,  so  he  did  not  once  obtain  a  full 
<siew  of  my  face.  He  proved  a  most  agreeable  and  attentive 
*29mpanion,  opening  and  shutting  the  ^iudow  just  as  often  9& 


136  MEADOW    BROOK. 

I  evinced  an  inclination  to  have  him,  holding  my  satchel  i» 
his  lap,  placing  his  own  traveling  trunk  at  me  feet  for  a  foot 
stool,  and  offering  me  his  fur-lined  overcoat  for  a  pillow,  be 
sides  expressing  many  fears  that  I  would  take  coli  whenever 
the  window  was  open.  At  almost  every  station,  too,  he  asked 
"  if  I  wished  for  anything,"  but  I  did  not,  except  indeed  to 
know  whether  he  was  yet  the  husband  of  Ada  Montrose,  and 
to  obtain  that  information  I  would  have  given  almost  any 
thing.  At  last  I  hit  upon  the  following  expedient.  He  made 
some  remark  about  j:he  country  through  which  we  were  pass 
ing,  and  I  replied  by  saying  that  "  I  believed  it  was  not  the 
first  time  he  had  been  over  that  road,  as,  if  I  mistook  not,  I 
saw  him  in  the  cars  with  his  wife  the  year  before." 

The  wrinkle  in  his  forehead  grew  'leeper,  and  his  face 
flushed  as  he  said,  quickly,  "  I  do  not  remember  of  meeting 
you  before,  though  I  was  here  last  fall,  but  not  with  my  wife, 
for  I  have  none.  It  was  my  ward,  Miss  Montrose." 

Nothing  could  have  given  me  more  satisfaction  than  this 
announcement,  for  if  Ada  were  his  ward,  it  explained,  in  a 
measure,  his  attentions  to  her;  and  as  I  cast  stolen  glances  at 
him,  I  felt  more  and  more  convinced  that  there  could  be  no 
affinity  between  him  and  the  haughty,  imperious  girl  to  whom 
he  was  guardian.  It  seemed  to  me  a  very  short  time  ere  he 
arose,  and  offering  me  his  hand,  said  he  must  go,  adding, 
"  We  shall  undoubtedly  meet  again,  as  I  occasionally  travel 
this  way." 

Yes,  we  should  meet  again.  I  felt  sure  of  that,  though 
how  and  where  I  could  not  tell. 

It  was  nearly  noon  of  the  next  day  when  ,1  reached  Meadow 
Brook,  where  I  found  my  father  at  the  depot,  waiting  to  re 
ceive  me.  Very  kindly  he  greeted  me,  inquiring  eagerly  after 
Anna  and  her  boy,  his  grandson,  whom  he  expressed  a  strong 
desire  to  see.  "  But  I  never  shall,"  he  said,  sadly,  as  he 
walked  slowly  beside  me  up  the  long  hill  which  led  to  the  vil 
lage.  Of  Herbert  he  spoke  not  a  word,  though  my  mother 
and  my  sisters  did,  asking  me  numberless  questions,  some  of 
which  I  answered,  while  the  others  I  managed  to  evade,  keep 
ing  them  ignorant  of  the  existing  state  of  things. 

I  found  them  all  busied  with  the  preparations  for  Juliet'., 
wedding,  which  took  place  within  a  week  after  my  return,  1 
officiating  as  bride-maid,  while  the  groomsman  was  none  other 
than  my  old  enemy,  John  Thompson,  now  a  tall  young  man 
of  eighteen,  and  cousin  to  Juliet's  husband.  When  first  the 
plan  was  suggested  to  me  I  refused,  for  I  bore  him  no  good 
but  my  objections  were  overruled  by  Juliet,  who  tola  m$ 


BROOk.  IS? 

how  much  he  had  improved,  and  that  I  would  find  him  very 
agreeable,  which  was  indeed  true.  He  was  very  polite  and  at 
tentive,  referring  laughingly  to  the  "  freaks  of  his  boyhood," 
as  he  termed  them,  while  at  the  same  time  he  laid  his  hand 
upon  his  chin,  caressing  the  beard  which  was  there  only  ip 
imagination,  and  even  apologizing  to  me  in  a  kind  of  offhand 
way  for  his  conduct  of  three  years  before.  Of  course  I  for=> 
gave  him,  and  we  are  now  the  best  of  friends.  So  much  foi 
childish  prejudices. 

In  the  course  of  the  evening  I  asked  him  about  the  doctor, 
and  was  told  that  he  was  still  in  Boston,  arid  doing  remark 
ably  well.  "  And  do  you  know/'  said  John,  "  he  imputes 
his  success  to  you.  I  verily  believe  he  thinks  you  a  perfect 
angel.  Any  way,  I  know  he  likes  you  better  than  he  does 
Dell,  for  he  told  me  so  in  plain  English,  and  I  don't  blame 
him  either;  the  way  she  cuts  up  is  enough  to  kill  any  man. 
Why,  if  I  were  in  his  place,  I'd  get  a  divorce  from  her  at 
once,  and  offer  myself  to  you!" 

"  I  wouldn't  have  him,"  said  I,  quickly. 

"  Nor  me  either?  "Wouldn't  you  have  me?'*  asked  John, 
playfully. 

"  No,  I  wouldn't,"  was  my  reply;  whereupon  he  laughed 
heartily,  saying  "  he  was  glad  he  knew  my  sentiments  before 
he  committed  himself;"  and  there  the  conversation  ended. 

After  Juliet  had  left  us  for  her  new  home,  in  an  adjoining 
town,  there  ensued  at  our  house  a  season  of  lonely  quiet,  in 
which  we  scarcely  knew  whether  to  laugh  or  to  cry.  There 
is  always  something  sad  in  the  giving  up  of  a  daughter  to  the 
care  of  another,  and  so  my  parents  found  it,  particularly  my 
father,  who,  broken  in  spirit  and  feeble  in  health,  was  unusu 
ally  cast  down.  He  could  hardly  suffer  me  to  leave  his  sight 
for  a  moment,  and  still  he  seemed  to  take  special  pleasure  in 
.finding  fault  with  whatever  I  did.  Nothing  pleased  him,  and 
gradually  there  returned  upon  me  with  its  full  force  the  olden 
fancy  of  my  childhood,  that  /  was  not  loved  like  the  rest.  It 
was  a  most  bitter  thought,  wringing  my  heart  with  a  keener 
anguish  than  it  had  ever  done  before;  and  once,  the  very  day 
before  the  one  set  for  my  return  to  Kockland,  my  pent-up 
feelings  burst  forth,  and  in  angry  tones  I  told  him  "  it  was 
useless  for  me  to  try  to  please  him — he  didn't  love  me  and 
never  had — and  I  was  glad  that  the  morrow  would  find  mo 
away,  where  he  would  no  longer  be  troubled  with  my  presence^ 
which  was  evidently  so  disagreeable  to  him." 

He  made  me  no  answer,  but  a  fearful  look  of  sorrow,  whir-l* 
will  haunt  me  to  my  dying  day,  passed  over  his  thin,  wli".^ 


!38  MEADOW    BROOK. 

face,  and  his  hand,  which  was  hard  and  hrown  with  toil  for 
me,  was  raised  beseechingly  as  if  to  stay  the  angry  torrent. 
Oh,  how  I  repented  of  my  harshness  then!  But  I  did  not  tell 
you  so;  I  would  wait  till  morning,  and  then,  ere  I  left,  I 
would  seek  the  forgiveness,  without  which  I  well  knew  I  should 
be  wretched,  for  something  told  me  that  never  in  this  world 
should  we  meet  again. 

Next  morning,  when  I  awoke,  the  sun  was  shining  bright, 
in  at  my  window,  and  hurrying  on  my  clothes,  I  descended  U 
the  dining-room.  In  silence  we  gathered  around  the  break 
fast-table,  and  then  I  saw  that  my  father  was  absent.  ' f  Where 
was  he?"  I  asked,  and  was  told  that,  having  business  in 
Southbridge,  a  town  several  miles  distant,  he  had  left  early, 
telling  my  mother  to  bid  me  good-bye  for  him.  All  my  good 
resolutions  were  forgotten,  and  again  I  said,  hastily,  "  I  think 
he  might  at  least  have  bidden  me  good-bye  himself,  and  you 
may  tell  him  so." 

"  Hush,  Rosa,  hush,"  said  my  mother.  "  Your  father 
isn't  the  man  he  was  before  we  left  our  old  home.  He  is 
broken  down,  and  it  may  be  you  have  seen  him  for  the  last 
time." 

"It  is  hardly  probable,"  I  answered;  and  with  a  swelling 
heart  I  bid  my  mother  adieu;  but  I  left  no  message  which 
would  tell  my  father  how  much  I  repented  of  my  rashness. 

Upon  his  grave  the  tall  grass  is  growing — howling  storms 
have  crept  across  it,  wintery  snows  have  piled  upon  it,  the 
summer's  mellow  sunlight  has  fallen  around  it,  flowers  have 
blossomed  and  faded,  changes  have  come  to  us  all,  arid  still  I 
have  never  ceased  to  regret  that  last  interview  with  my  father, 
or  to  mourn  over  my  distrust  of  his  love  for  me. 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE   DEATH  OF  THE  DRUNKARD.  * 

DURING  my  journey  back  to  Rockland,  I  did  not  agafe 
meet  with  the  stranger,  although  I  looked  for  him  at  every 
station,  and  when  at  last  I  stepped  from  the  cars  at  Canan- 
daigua,  I  must  confess  to  a  feeling  of  disappointment,  I  had 
expected  Herbert  to  meet  me,  but  he  was  not  there.  I  was 
just  wondering  what  I  should  do  in  case  he  failed  to  come, 
when  my  attention  was  attracted  toward  a  tall,  athletic-look 
ing  young  man  who  was  inspecting  my  trunk,  which  stood 
upon  the  platform.  Fearful  lest  my  best  clothes  should  be 
carried  off  before  my  very  face,  I  started  quickly  forward^ 
demanding  what  he  was  doing  with  my  baggage. 


MEADOW    BKOOK.  139 

The  stranger  stood  up  and  fixed  upon  me  a  pair  of  singu 
larly  handsome  hazel  eyes,  which  had  in  them  an  expression 
so  penetrating  that  I  quailed  beneath  them,  while  at  the  same 
time  there  swept  over  me  a  strange,  undefined  feeling  as  if 
somewhere,  in  a  dream,  perchance,  I  had  met  that  glance  be» 
fore. 

"  Are  you  Miss  Lee?7'  he  asked,  and  the  tones  of  his  voics 
thrilled  me  like  an  echo  of  the  past. 

I  replied  in  the  affirmative;  and  without  once  taking  his 
eyes  from  my  face,  he  said,  "  I  am  Henry  Watson,  Mr.  Lang- 
ley's  hired  man.  He  sent  me  for  you,  and  the  wagon  is  at 
the  other  door." 

Mechanically  I  followed  him  to  the  place  designated,  and 
then,  as  if  I  had  been  a  feather,  he  took  me  in  his  arms  and 
placed  me  in  the  wide  chair,  wrapping  the  buffalo  robes 
around  me,  and  in  various  ways  seeing  that  I  was  comfort 
able.  He  did  not  seem  to  me  like  a  hireling,  for  his  language 
was  good,  his  manners  gentlemanly,  and  ere  we  were  half-way 
to  Breeze  HiH  I  was  very  much  prepossessed  in  his  favor,  ex 
cept,  indeed,  that  he  would  look  at  me  so  much.  He  was 
quite  talkative,  asking  me  of  my  parents,  of  my  brothers,  and 
•appearing  much  gratified  when  I  told  him  how  well  Charlie 
was  doing  as  clerk  in  a  dry-goods  store  in  Worcester,, 

"  And  Mr.  Langley  is  only  your  cousin  by  marriage?"  he 
said  at  last.  "  Have  you  any  other  male  cousins?"  he  asked. 

"  I  had  a  boy  cousin  once,"  I  said,  "  but  he  is  probably 
iead,  for  we  have  not  heard  from  him  in  six  long  years." 

Forgetful  that  Mr.  Watson  was  to  me  an  entire  stranger,  I 
very  briefly  told  him  the  story  of  Cousin  Will,  who  returned 
not  with  the  vessel  which  bore  him  away,  and  who  had  desert 
ed  the  ship  at  Calcutta.  For  many  days  they  searched  for 
him  in  vain,  and  at  last  left  him  alone  in  that  far-off  Iand3 
where  he  had  probably  met  an  early  death, 

"  He  must  have  been  a  wild  boy,  and  I  dare  say  you  felt  re« 
iieved  to  be  rid  of  him,"  said  Mr.  Watson,  who  had  appeared 
deeply  interested  in  my  story. 

*  Yes,  he  was  wild,"  I  replied,  "  but  I  liked  him  very,  very 
much,  and  cried  myself  sick  when  he  went  away." 

Again  the  stranger's  eyes  fell  upon  me  with  a  look  I  could 
not  fathom.  I  grew  uneasy,  and  was  not  sorry  when  about 
sunset  we  turned  into  the  long,  shady  avenue  which  led  up  to 
the  house.  As  if  by  magic,  a  wondrous  change  had  been 
wrought  in  my  absence;  for  everything  around  the  building 
wore  an  air  of  neatness  and  thrift,  which  betokened  that  there 
was  now  a  head  to  manage  and  Direct.  Herbert,  too,  was 


MEADOW    EROO&, 

perfectly  sober,  while  Anna^  face  was  far  happier  than  whesi 
I  last  saw  her.  The  cause  of  this  she  explained  to  me  the 
first  moment  we  were  alone.  Herbert  had  signed  the  pledge  • 
Had  become  a  sober  man,  and  all  through  the  exertions  o£ 
Mr0  Watson,  whom  she  pronounced  an  angel  in  disguise*,. 
&nd,  truly,  his  influence  over  Herbert  was  wonderful;  for 
lever  did  an  anxious  mother  watch  over  her  sickly  child  more 
3arefully  than  Mr.  Watson  watched  over  his  employer,  shield 
ing  him  from  temptation,  and  gently  leading  him  in  the  path 
of  rectitude,  until  the  wine-flush  on  his  cheek  gave  way  to  a 
hue  of  health,  the  redness  of  his  eyes  was  gone,  and  con 
scious  of  the  victory  he  had  achieved,  he  stood  forth  again  in 
all  the  pride  of  his  manhood,  sober,  virtuous,  and  happy. 

Such  was  the  state  of  things  when,  early  in  April,  we  re 
ceived  invitations  to  attend  a  wedding-party  at  the  house  of 
Judge  Perkins,  whose  broad  acres  and  heavy  purse  of  gold  had 
purchased  for  him  a  fair  young  girl  just  his  eldest  daughter's 
age.  It  was  to  be  a  splendid  affair,  for  all  the  elite  of  Kock- 
land  were  bidden,  and,  as  a  matter  of  course,  /  forthwith 
commenced  looking  over  my  wardrobe,  and  declaring  I  had 
nothing  to  wear.  Anna,  on  the  contrary,  did  not  seem  at  all 
interested,  and  when  I  questioned  her  for  her  indifference,  she 
replied,  "  What  if  they  have  wine,  and  Herbert  should  drink?" 

"  They  wouldn't  have  wine,"  I  told  her,  for  Judge  Perkins 
was  a  stanch  temperance  man,  and  it  was  not  probable  that 
he  would  do  anything  so  inconsistent  with  his  profession. 

After  a  time  she  became  •  convinced  that  her  fears  were 
groundless,  and  began  with  me  to  anticipate  the  expected 
pleasure.  Henry  Watson  was  not  invited,  but  he  carried  us 
to  the  door,  going  himself  to  the  hotel  to  wait  until  we  were 
ready  to  return.  Just  as  he  was  leaving  us  he  whispered  a 
few  words  to  Herbert,  who  replied,  gayly,  "  Never  fear  for 
fiie.  Judge  Perkins  isn't  the  man  to  throw  temptation  in  my. 
v  svay«>" 

Ah,  would  it  had  been  so!  Would  that  the  sparkling 
champagne,  the  ruby  wine,  and  the  foaming  ale  nad  not 
graced  that  marriage  feast,  for  then,  perchance,  one  grave  at 
least  would  not  have  been  made  so  soon,  nor  the  widow's 
weeds  worn  by  my  sister  ere  the  bloom  of  youth  had  faded 
from  her  brow. 

I  saw  her  cheek  pale  as  we  entered  the  supper-room,  but 
when  amid  the  din  and  uproar  which  succeeded  the  drawing 
of  the  corks.  Herbert  stood  firm  to  his  pledge,  refusing  to 
drink,  though  urged  to  do  so,  the  color  came  back  to  her  facep 
and  her  eye  proudly  followed  her  husband,  whose  easy  man- 


MEADOW    BROOK.  I4t 

ners  made  him  a  favorite,  and.  who,  with  ready  tact,  moved 
among  the  guests,  doing  far  more  toward  their  entertainment 
than  8ie  master  of  the  house  himself.  He  was  standing  near 
the  bride,  a  beautiful  young  creature,  with  a  sunny  face  and 
radiant  smile.  Diamonds  were  wreathed  in  her  shining  curls, 
and  shone  upon  her  snowy  arms,  while  the  costly  veil  almost 
swept  the  floor,  and  enveloped  her  slight  form  like  a  misty 
cloud.  Very  affable  and  polite  had  she  been  to  Herbert,  ana 
now  as  he  approached  her,  she  took  from  the  table  two  gob-  j 
lets  of  wine,  and  passing  one  to  him,  said,  "  Mr.  Langley,  I'i 
am  sure,  will  not  refuse  to  drink  with  me,  the  bride ?" 

To  refuse  would  have  seemed  uncourteous;  and  so,  with  a 
hasty  glance  at  his  wife,  he  drank  the  health  of  the  lovely 
woman,  who,  in  an  angel's  guise,  unconsciously  tempted  him 
to  ruin.  Involuntarily  Anna  gasped  as  if  for  breath,  while 
she  started  quickly  forward  to  stay  the  rash  act;  but  she  was 
too  late,  and  with  a  faint  moan  of  anguish,  she  turned  away 
to  hide  her  tears.  One  taste  awoke  the  slumbering  demon, 
and  set  his  veins  on  fire;  and  when  at  midnight  Mr.  Watson 
came  for  us,  he  took  the  insensible  man  in  his  arms  and 
placed  him  in  the  wagon,  beside  the  weeping  wife,  whose  fond 
hopes  were  now  wrecked  forever. 

From  that  time  Herbert  made  no  further  attempt  at  re 
form,  but  night  after  night,  came  reeling  home,  sometimes 
singing  a  bacchanalian  song,  and  again  rending  the  air  with 
curses,  until  at  last  poor  Anna  learned  to  tremble  at  the 
sound  of  his  footsteps;  for  he  daily  grew  more  and  more  vio 
lent  and  unmanageable,  defying  every  one  save  Mr.  Watson, 
who  possessed  over  him  a  singular  power.  Thus  the  spring 
and  summer  passed  away,  and  when  the  autumn  came  few 
would  have  recognized  the  once  handsome  Herbert  Langley  in 
the  bloated  creature  who,  weak  and  feeble,  lay  all  day  long  in 
bed,  begging  for  "brandy — more  brandy,"  to  fan  the  flame 
which  was  feeding  upon  his  vitals.  Sometimes  in  his  fits  of 
xrenzy  he  would  spring  upon  the  floor,  and  shriek  for  us  to 
save  him  from  the  crawling  serpents,  which,  with  forked 
tongues  and  little  green  eyes,  hissed  at  him  from  all  parts  of 
the  room.  Again  he  would  say  that  the  spirit  of  the  mur- 
dered  maiden  was  before  him,  whispering  to  him  unutterable 
things  concerning  the  drunkard's  home  beyond  the  grave, 
while  goblins  of  every  conceivable  form  beckoned  him  to  come 
and  join  their  hideous  dance. 

Once,  when  he  was  more  quiet  than  usual,  he  said  to  me, 
"  Rosa,  do  you  remember  wnat  I  once  told  you  about  mjf 
Soother's  joining  the  church  and  reading  her  prayers?" 


143  MEADOW    BKOOK. 

I  replied  in  the  affirmative,  and  he  continued :  "  Do  you 
know,  I'd  give  the  world  were  it  mine  if  I  could  hear  her  pray 
for  me  once  more.  It  would  cool  my  scorching  brain,  and  if 
I  dare  pray  for  myself,  I  know  I  should  be  healed;  but  I  can 
not,  for  the  moment  I  attempt  it  there,  are  legions  of  impg 
who  flit  and  grin  before  my  face,  while  one,  larger  and  more 
rniseemly  than  the  rest,  shouts  in  my  ears,  '  Lost,  lost,  to  all 
eternity r  There!  Look!  don't  you  hear  it?"  and  shivering 
with  fright,  he  covered  his  head  with  the  bed-clothes. 
j  But  I  heard  nothing  save  the  heaving  swell  of  the  waves, 
j&ad  the  sullen  roar  of  the  lake,  which  came  in  through  the 
open  window,  seeming  to  his  disordered  imagination  an  accus 
ing  spirit  from  another  world.  At  last  looking  up  timidly 
and  speaking  low,  as  if  fearful  of  being  overheard,  he  said, 
"  Is  there  a  prayer-book  in  the  house?" 

I  answered  in  the  affirmative.  Raising  himself  upon  his 
elbow,  and  glancing  fearfully  around,  he  continued,  "  Bring 
it,  quick,  while  they  are  away,  and  put  it  under  my  pillow. 
Who  knows  but  it  may  operate  like  a  spell!" 

I  complied  with  his  request,  and  brought  the  book,  which 
he  placed  under  his  head,  saying,  "  There;  now  I  can  pray, 
and  God  won't  let  them  mock  me,-  will  He?" 

I  could  only  weep  as  he  folded  his  long  white  hands  one 
over  the  other,  and  said  reverently  the  prayer  taught  him 
years  and  years  before,  commencing  with: 

"  Now  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep,"  etc. 

As  if  the  words  indeed  had  a  soothing  power,  he  almost 
fell  into  a  deep  sleep,  from  which  he  awoke  refreshed,  and 
better  than  he  had  been  for  several  days.  They  said  he  could 
not  live;  and  though  it  was  a  painful  task,  Anna  wrote  to  his 
mother  apprising  her  of  his  danger,  and  bidding  her  hasten, 
if  she  would  see  him  again. 

During  the  few  remaining  weeks  of  his  life  he  was  subject- 
to  strange  fancies.  For  a  time  the  prayer-book  beneath  his 
pillow  had  the  effect  of  keeping  him  comparatively  quiet;  but, 
anon,  it  lost  its  power,  and  one  day  he  awoke  with  a  fearful 
shriek.  The  imps,  as  he  called  them,  had  again  returned, 
.and  were  mockingly  taunting  him  with  the  victory  he  vainly 
Imagined  he  had  obtained. 

"  Keep  off,  ye  devils!"  he  shouted,  drawing  the  volume 
from  beneath  his  pillow,  and  holding  it  to  view.  "  Keep  off; 
for,  see,  this  book  is  full  of  prayers,  which  my  mother  has 
said.  My  mother!  Do  you  hear?  Ha!  They  laugh  at  the 
idea,  and  well  they  may.  Had  she  learned,  to  pray  sooner,  I 


JTEADOTV    BROOfc,  14S 

might  not  have  oeen  the  vile  thing  that  I  am.  But  she 
taught  me  to  drink.  She  set  the  example ;  so  go  to  her  with 
those  horrid  faces  besmeared  with  the  smoke  of  the  pit." 

There  was  a  bitter  groan,  and  then  the  wretched  woman, 
his  mother,  fell  half  fainting  upon  a  chair.  She  had  just  ar 
rived,  and,  eager  to  see  her  boy,  had  entered  the  room  in  tims 
to  hear  what  he  said.  He  knew  her  in  a  moment,  and  start 
ing  upright  in  bed,  exclaimed,  "  Woman,  look!  this  is  your 
work — the  result  of  your  example!  There  was  a  time,  long 
ago — how  long  ago  it  seems! — but  there  ivas  a  time,  I  say, 
when  I  loathed  the  very  smell  of  the  liquors  which  daily 
graced  our  table.  By  little  and  by^  little  that  loathing  was 
overcome.  You  drank  and  called  it  good;  and  what  one's 
mother  says  is  true.  So  I,  too,  tasted  and  tasted  again  until 
here  I  am,  Herbert  Langley,  husband  of  .Anna  Lee,  ruined 
body  and  soul — body  and  soul!  What  do  you  say  to  that, 
mother?" 

He  sunk  back  upon  the  bed  exhausted,  while  Aunt  Char 
lotte,  who  had  swooned  entirely  away,  was  taken  from  the 
room.  The  shock  was  too  great  for  her,  and  for  two  days  she 
did  not  again  venture  into  his  presence.  The  next  time,  how 
ever,  that  she  saw  him,  his  mood  had  changed,  and  winding 
his  feeble  arms  around  her  neck,  be  wept  like  a  child,  asking 
her  to  take  from  his  heart  the  worm  which  was  gnawing  there. 
Oh,  how  I  pitied  the  heart-broken  woman!  for  I  well  knew 
she  would  gladly  have  laid  down  her  life  could  that  have  saved 
her  son.  For  three  days  longer  he  lingered,  and  then  there 
came  the  closing  scene,  which  haunted  me  for  months. 

He  had  been  restless  during  the  night,  muttering  inco 
herently,  and  occasionally  striking  at  the  fancied  shapes  which 
surrounded  him ;  but  toward  morning  he  grew  violent,  and  at 
last  with  a  shriek  which  chilled  my  blood,  he  sprung  from  the 
bed,  and  pointing  toward  the  window,  whispered,  "  Hark! 
jDon't  you  hear  it? — music  from  the  infernal  regions!  They 
are  come,  every  demon  of  them,  for  me.  It's  a  grand  turn 
out.  There!  Don't  you  see  them  with  their  flaming  eyes 
looking  through  the  windows,  and  that  shriveled  hag  whose 
hair  is  curling  snakes?  See!  She  beckons  me  with  her  bony 
claws,  and  says  I  am  to  be  her  son.  Do  you  hear  that,  moth 
er?  Her  son!  Go  back!"  he  shouted,  leaping  toward  the 
window.  ;'You  don't  get  me  this  time.  I  won't  die  yet. 
Give  me  the  prayer-book,  and  let  me  hurl  it  at  her  head — 
that'll  settle  her,  I  reckon." 

He  would  have  gone  through  the  window,  had  not  Mr.  Wat- 
sou  taken  him  in  his  an&s  aod  boxce  mm  back  to  the  bed., 


MEADOW    IJROOR. 

where  he  held  him  fast,  soothing  him  as  hest  he  could  "by  ag« 
suring  him  there  were  no  such  unearthly  objects  in  the  room 
as  he  supposed. 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Herbert,  for  a  moment  comparatively 
rational.  "  I  know  what  it  is.  It  is  delirium  tremens,  and  I 
.know  what  causes  it,  too;  shall  I  tell  you?" 

Mr.  Watson  nodded,  and  Herbert  continued:  "  Cider,  beer, 
wine,  brandy — death;  that's  the  programme  which  keeps  the 
foe  of  hell  eternally  burning.  Where  is  my  boy — Anna  s  boy 
&nd  mine?"  he  asked  after  a  pause. 

"  Do  you  wish  to  see  him?"  asked  Mr.  Watson. 

"Bee  him!  Yes.  I  want  to  do  one  good  deed  before  I 
die.  I  would  kill  him — murder  my  only  child,  and  send  him 
to  hjaven,  where  rum-sellers  never  go;  where  women,  with 
witching  eyes  and  luring  words,  never  tempt  men  to  drink. 
Bring  him  in;  why  do  you  loiter?"  turning  to  Anna.  "  Is  it 
that  you  would  have  lived  to  be  the  wreck  I  am — to  curse  the 
mother  who  bore  him  and  the  day  he  was  born?  Bring  him 
quick,  I  tell  you,  for  time  hastens,  and  in  the  distance  I  hear 
the  clang  of  the  hag's  footsteps." 

"  Oh,  Herbert,  Herbert,  my  poor  husband!"  was  all  Anna 
eouVd  say,  as  she  wound  her  arms  round  his  neck  and  laid  her 
colorless  cheek  against  his  fevered  brow. 

In  a  moment  he  grew  calm,  and  drawing  her  to  his  bosom, 
his  tears  fell  like  rain  upon  her  face,  while  he  called  her  his 
"  wounded  dove,"  and  asked  her  forg  veness  for  all  he  had 
made  her  suffer.  "  You  will  live  with  mother  when  I  am 
gone,"  he  said.  "  You  and  Jamie.  God  forbid  that  I  should 
harm  our  beautiful  boy;  but  I  would  see  him  onfce  more. 
Don't  be  afraid,"  he  added,  as  he  saw  her  hesitate.  "I  will 
not  hurt  him." 

Disengaging  herself  from  her  husband's  embrace,  Anna 
glided  from  the  room,  to  which  she  soon  returned,  leading  lit- 
lie  Jamie,  now  two  years  of  age.  Very  lovingly  the  dying 
man  looked  upon  his  son,  and  then  laying  his  shaking  hand 
upon  the  golden  curls,  he  said,  "  God  keep  you,  my  boy,  from 
being  what  I  am;  and  if  a  drunkard's  blessing  can  be  of  any 
avail,  you  have  mine^  my  precious,  precious  child." 

"  Would  you  like  to  kiss  him?"  asked  Aunt  Charlotte;  to 
which  he  replied,  "  No,  no;  I  am  too  polluted  to  touch  aught 
so  pure.  But  take  him  away,"  he  continued,  growing  excit 
ed.  "  Take  him  away,  for  the  demon  on  my  pillow  is  again 
whispering  of  murder." 

Hastily  the  wondering  child  was  taken  from  the  room,  and 

*U™    TT™T™~f  -P^ll    ^Ti+rt  o  HififlirlWl    ulvimliAY*     ;«    TrrV.ir.V.    Vio    oooTViori 


MEADOW    BKOOK.  145 

ic  be  holding  converse  with  beings  of  another  worm,  inquirinff 
of  them  if  they  had  enough  to  drink,  and  chiding  the  ricn 
man  for  asking  water,  when  he  might  as  well  call  for  brandy. 

About  noon  he  awoke  and  inquired  for  me.  With  some 
trepidation  I  approached  him,  for  his  eyes  were  •  those  of  a 
madman;  but  he  meditated  no  harm,  and  only  asked  if  I  sup 
posed  that  the  prayer-book  laid  upon  the  outside  of  his  pillow, 
where  the  hag  could  see  it,  would  have  the  effect  of  keeping 
ler  away. 

"  Perhaps  so."  I  said,  at  the  same  time  placing  it  so  that  1 
his  heavy  Brown  hair  fell  partially  on  it.  ( 

"  Now,  will  some  one  pray — mother,  you?"  and  his  eyes 
turned  imploringly  toward  the  half-crazed  woman,  who  es 
sayed  to  pray  for  the  departing  spirit. 

"  That'll  do— that'll  do!"  he  exclaimed,  interrupting  her. 
•'  It's  of  no  use  spending  your  breath  for  me.  It's  too  late — 
too  late — so  the  hag  says,  and  she's  coming  again,  with 
myriads  on  myriads  of  fiends;  but  they  can't  hurt  me  as  long 
as  this  is  here,"  and  his  hand  clutched  convulsively  for  the 
book  which  lay  beside  him. 

"  The  hymn-book!  the  hymn-book!  bring  that  top!"  he 
gasped,  while  a  cold  perspiration  stood  thickly  upon  his  fore 
head. 

It  was  brought  and  placed  on  the  opposite  side  of  his  head. 

"  'Twon't  do— 'twon't  do,"  he  sobbed.  "  All  the  hymns 
Doctor  "Watts  ever  wrote  can't  help  me,  for  they  come  nearer 
and  nearer,  as  wolves  hover  round  their  prey.  Is  there  no 
help,  no  escape?"  he  cried,  with  the  energy  of  despair,  add 
ing,  as  a  sudden  look  of  joy  lighted  up  his  ghastly  features, 
"  Yes,  the  Bible!  Strange  I  have  not  thought  of  that  before. 
The  Bible  will  keep  them  at  bay.  Bring  it,  Anna,  quick;  for 
they  are  almost  here." 

She  obeyed,  and  grasping  the  word  of  God  eagerly  in  his 
hands,  he  laughed  aloud,  saying,  "  Now  do  your  worst,  ye 
fiends  incarnate.  The  Bible  will  save  me." 

There  was  a  moment  of  perfect  silence;  and  then,  with  a 
groan  so  full  of  anguish  that  I  involuntarily  stopped  my  ears 
to  shut  out  the  fearful  sound,  the  Bible  was  loosed  from  the 
clammy  hands,  which  for  a  brief  instant  fought  fiercely  in  the 
empty  air,  and  then  dropped  lifeless  at  bis  side.  Herbert  was 

dead! 

*  *  *  *  *  *  * 

At  the  foot  of  the  garden,  near  the  long  avenue  where  the 
shadow  of  the  maple-trees  would  fall  upon  his  grave,  and  the 
moan  of  the  lake  be  always  heard,  we  buried  Mm;  acd  then, 


I4G  MEADOW    BBOOK. 

the  broken-hearted  Anna,  widowed  thus  early,  went  back  to 
her  accustomed  duties,  performing  each  one  quietly  and  gen 
tly,  but  without  a  smile  upon  her  white,  stony  face,  or  a  tear 
in  her  large,  mournful  blue  eyes.  Aunt  Charlotte,  too,  utter 
ly  crushed  and  wretched,  went  back  to  her  city  home,  having 
first  won  a  promise  from  Anna  that  in  the  autumn  she  would 
follow  her.  And  then  we  were  left  alone  with  our  great  sor 
row,  wholly  dependent,  as  it  were,  upon  Mr.  Watson  for  sup 
port  and  counsel. 

There  had  always  been  about  him  a  mystery  I  could  not 
fathom,  and  greatly  was  I  surprised  when  one  evening,  a  week 
after  Herbert's  death,  he  asked  me  to  go  with  him  to  his  room, 
as  there  was  something  he  wished  to  tell  me.  I  complied  with 
his  request,  and  was  soon  seated  in  the  large  willow  chair  near 
the  table  on  which  lay  many  works  of  our  best  authors,  for  he 
possessed  a  taste  for  literature,  and  devoted  all  his  leisure  mo 
ments  to  study.  Drawing  a  seat  to  my  side,  he  said,  taking 
my  hand  in  his,  "  Rosa,  what  do  you  think  I  am  going  to  tell 
you?" 

I  tried  to  wrest  my  hand  from  his  grasp,  for  the  unwonted 
liberty  angered  me.  But  he  held  it  fast,  smiling  at  my  fruit 
less  endeavors,  and  after  a  moment  continued:  "  Why  do  you 
try  to  remove  your  hand  from  mine?  I  have  held  it  many  a 
time,  and  I  have  a  right  to  do  so— a  cousin's  right.  Look  at 
me,  Eosa;  don't  you  know  me?" 

Involuntarily  I  started  to  my  feet,  gazing  earnestly  upon 
him,  then  with  a  cry  of  joy  I  threw  my  arms  around  his  neck, 
exclaiming,  "  Cousin  Will!  Cousin  Will!" 

It  was  indeed  he,  come  back  to  us  when  we  had  thought  of 
him  as  dead. '  A  few  words  will  suffice  to  tell  his  story.  Per 
fectly  disgusted  with  sea  life,  he  had  deserted  at  Calcutta, 
where  he  kept  himself  secreted  until  the  vessel  sailed.  But  it 
was  not  his  wish  to  remain  there  long,  and  the  first  time  an 
English  ship  was  in  port  he  offered  to  work  his  passage  to 
Liverpool.  The  offer  was  accepted,  and  while  we  were  mourn 
ing  over  his  supposed  death,  he  was  threading  the  smoky  streets 
of  London,  doing  sometimes  one  thing  and  sometimes  another, 
but  always  earning  an  honest  livelihood. 

"  Never  for  a  moment,"  said  he,  "  did  I  forget  your  fam« 
ily,  but  I  have  fancied  they  were  glad  to  be  rid  of  me,  and 
hence  my  silence.  When  at  last  I  returned  again  to  New 
York,  I  went  one  day  to  a  reading-room,  where  I  accidentally 
came  across  Mr.  Langleys  advertisement,  and  something 
prompted  me  to  answer  it  in  person.  If  I  had  ever  heard  of 
him  before,  I  had  forgotten  it;  consequently  I  neither  rocog* 


MEADOW    EKOOK. 

fclsed  him  nor  his  wife,  who  has  changed  much  since  I  saw 
her;  but  when  I  accidentally  heard  them  speak  of  Rosa  and 
Meadow  Brook,  my  curiosity  was  roused,  and  I  became  aware 
of  the  relationship  existing  between  us.  Why  I  have  kept  it 
a  secret  so  long  I  can  hardly  tell,  except  that  there  was  about 
it,  to  me,  a  kind  of  pleasing  excitement,  and  then,  too,  I  fan 
cied  that  Mr.  Langley  would  not  so  well  bear  restraint  and 
direction  from  me  if  he  supposed  me  an  interested  party;  but 
he  has  gone,  and  concealment  on  that  score  is  no  longer  neces-i 
sary.  I  have  told  you  my  story,  Rosa,  and  now  it  is  for  yon 
to  say  whether  I  am  again  received  and  loved  as  the  Cousin 
Will  of  olden  time. 

He  was  a  big,  tall  man,  six  feet  two  inches  high,  while  I 
was  a  young  girl  scarcely  yet  seventeen;  but  notwithstanding 
all  this,  I  threw  my  arms  round  his  sunburned  neck  and 
kissed  his  sunburned  cheek  as  I  had  often  done  before.  This 
was  my  answer,  and  with  it  he  was  satisfied. 

After  leaving  his  room  I  went  directly  to  my  sister,  to 
whom  I  repeated  the  strange  story  I  had  heard.  She  was 
pleased  and  gratified,  but  her  faculties  were  too  much  be 
numbed  for  her  to  manifest  any  particular  emotion,  though 
as  time  wore  on  I  could  see  how  much  she  leaned  upon  him 
and  confided  in  his  judgment.  It  seemed  necessary  for  her  to 
remain  in  Rockland  through  the  summer,  and  as  she  would  not 
consent  to  my  leaving  her,  I  was  rather  compelled  to  stay; 
although  almost  weekly  there  came  to  us  letters  from  home 
urging  our  return,  and  at  last,  near  the  middle  of  September, 
we  one  day  received  a  letter  from  Charlie,  which,  owing  to 
some  delay,  had  been  on  the  road  two  whole  weeks.  In  it  he 
wrote  that  our  father  had  failed  rapidly  within  a  few  days  and 
we  must  come  quickly  if  we  would  again  see  him  alive,  adding 
that  he  talked  almost  constantly  of  Rosa,  asking  if  they 
thought  she  would  come. 

Oh,  how  vividly  I  recalled  the  past,  remembering  with  an 
guish  the  harsh  words  I  had  uttered  when  last  I  saw  him!  It 
was  true  I  had  once  written,  imploring  pardon  for  my  fault,, 
and  Lizzie,  who  answered  my  letter,  had  said,  "  Father  bid 
me  say  that  you  were  freely  forgiven;"  but  still  I  felt  that  I 
could  not  let  him  die  until  I  had  heard  my  forgiveness  from 
his  own  lips.  It  was  impossible  for  Anna  to  accompany  me, 
and  as  William  would  not  leave  her,  I  started  alone,  my 
heart  filled  with  many  dark  forebodings,  lest  I  should  be  too 
late. 


"148  MEADOW   BBOOK, 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE  DEATH  OF  THE  RIGHTEOUS. 

ALL  around  the  house  was  still,  while  within  the  children 
and  the  neighbors  trod  softly  as  they  went  from  room  to  room, 
and  their  faces  wore  an  anxious,  troubled  look,  as  if  they  al 
ready  felt  the  presence  of  the  shadow  hovering  near.  The 
heavy  brass  knocker  was  muffled,  and  the  deep-toned  church-  * 
bell  across  the  way  no  longer  tolled  the  hours  of  twelve  andfi; 
nine,  for  at  each  stroke  the  sick  man  had  turned  upon  his  pil 
low,  and  moaned  as  if  in  pain.  So  when  the  Sabbath  came 
the  people  went  up  unsummoned  to  the  house  of  God,  where 
they  reverently  prayed  for  him  who  was  passing  from  their 
midst,  and  who,  ere  another  week  rolled  round,  would  be 
"  where  congregations  ne'er  break  up,  and  Sabbaths  never 
end." 

For  many  days  he  had  lain  in  a  kind  of  stupor  from  which 
nothing  roused  him  save  the  rush  of  the  engine  a«  it  swept 
across  the  meadow  at  the  foot  of  the  hill.  Then  he  would 
start  up,  asking  eagerly  if  "  they  had  come,  Anna,  Rosa,  and 
Jamie,"  Much  he  talked  of  the  absent  ones,  and  as  day  by 
day  went  by  and  still  they  came  not,  he  wept  like  a  little 
child,  as  he  said  to  his  wife,  "  I  shall  never  see  them  more." 

"  And  if  you  do  not,"  she  asked,  "  what  shall  I  tell  them?" 
For  a  time  he  lay  as  if  her  question  was  unheard — then  open 
ing  his  eyes  he  answered  "  Tell  Anna,  my  stricken  one,  that 
there  is  for  her  a  balm  ii  Gilead;  that  whom  the  Lord  loveth 
He  chasteneth,  and  thrugh  the  waters  through  which  she  is 
passing  bo  deep  and  troubled,  they  shall  not  overflow,  for  the 
everlasting  arms  are  beneath  her." 

"And  Rosa,  have  you  no  message  for  her?"  asked  my 
mother  as  he  ceased  speaking. 

"  Oh,  Rosa,  Rosa,"  he  answered,  quickly,  "  tell  her — tell 
her  everything — but  not  here — not  in  this  room.  She  thinks  t 
I  do  not  love  her,  and  when  she  comes  and  finds  me  gone,  go' 
with  her  to  my  grave.  She  will  believe  you  if  you  tell  hert 
there  how  dear  she  was  to  me,  and  how,  through  the  long, 
weary  nights  before  I  died,  I  wept  and  prayed  for  her  that  she 
might  one  day  meet  me  in  the  better  land.  I  never  meant  to 
3ove  one  child  more  than  another,  but  if  I  did — tell  her  she 
was  my  pride,  the  one  on  whom  I  doted.  She  k thought  me 
cold  and  unfeeling,  because  I  stayed  not  to  bid  her  adieu  that 
morning.  Ah!  she  did  not  ^now  that  with  the  first  dawn  of 


MEADOW    BROOfc.  14& 

day  !  stole  up  to  her  chamber  to  look  on  her  once  more  for 
the  last,  last  time.  There  were  tears  on  her  cheek;  I  kissed 
them  away;  tell  her  that,  and  perchance  her  heart  will  soften 
toward  her  poor  old  father." 

From  that  time  he  sunk  rapidly,  and  one  bright  September 
day,  near  the  hour  of  sunset,  it  was  told  in  Meadow  Brook 
that  he  was  dying.  On  such  occasions,  in  a  small  country 
village,  the  liveliest  sympathy  is  felt;  and  now  those  who 
knew  and  loved  him  spoke  to  each  other  softly  and  low,  while 
even  the  little  children  ceased  their  noisy  play  upon  the  com 
mon,  and,  with  a  timid,  curious  glance  toward  the  open  win 
dows  of  the  sick-room,  hastened  home,  where  they  kept  close 
ly  at  their  mother's  side,  wondering — asking  of  her  what  death 
•  was,  and  if  she  were  sure  that  he,  the  dying  one,  would  go  to 
heaven. 

Meantime,  the  sun  was  almost  set,  and  as  its  last  golden  rays 
fell  upon  the  face  of  the  sufferer,  a  radiant  smile  lighted  up 
his  features,  and  he  exclaimed  aloud,  "  'Tis  the  glorious  light 
of  the  Eternal  shining  down  upon  me.  Do  not  weep,  mother. 
We  shall  not  be  parted  long,"  he  continued,  as  he  felt  upon 
his  forehead  a  tear  from  the  gray-haired,  wrinkled  woman,  on 
whose  bosom  his  head  was  pillowed,  just  as  it  had  been  long, 
long  ago,  when  first  a  tender  babe  he  lay  in  that  mother's 
arms.  To  her  it  seemed  not  long,  and  yet  it  was  fifty  years 
since  he  was  lent  to  her,  and  now,  when  God  would  have  his 
own  again,  she  said  submissively,  "  Thy  will  be  done."  Once 
before  had  a  great  sorrow  fallen  upon  her,  leaving  her  hence 
forth  to  walk  alone,  and  then  her  soul  had  well-nigh  fainted 
beneath  the  blow,  for  she  was  younger  far  by  many  years. 
But  now  she  was  old,  and  already  she  heard  the  roar  of  the 
deep  dark  river  on  whose  very  ban,1:*  she  stood,  and  down 
whose  swift  current  her  first-born  was  Boating;  so  she  stifled 
her  own  grief,  for,  as  he  had  said,  &o@  knew  it  would  not  be 
long  ere  they  met  again. 

"  Where  is  Fanny?"  he  asked,  msi  his  arms  closed  fondly 
around  his  wife. 

It  mattered  not  that  time  and  care  had  dimmed  the  luster 
of  her  eye  and  robbed  her  cheo^  of  its  girlish  bloom;  to  him 
she  was  beautiful  still,  for  through  weal  and  woe  she  had  been 
faithful  to  her  marriage  vow,  and  now  the  bitterest  pang  of 
all  was  the  -leaving  her  alone. 

"  The  God  of  the  widow  and  the  fatherless  watch  over  and 
keep  you  all  so  that  at  the  last,  when  I  ask  for  my  children, 
there  shall  not  be  one  missing,"  he  said,  as  his  arms  unclosed: 
and  then,  with  a  low,  wailisg  moan,  the  mother  bent  over  the 


150  MEADOW    BROO&. 

white  face  of  her  son,  so  that  the  wife  might  not  see  the  fear 
ful  change  which  had  come  upon  it — for  my  father  was  dead! 
You  who  have  kept  with  me  while  I  described  the  death 
scene  of  the  unfortunate  Herbert,  and  of  my  sainted  father, 
can  you  not — do  you  not  say,  "  Let  me  die  the  death  of  the 
righteous,  and  let  my  last  end  be  like  his?" 
,     Lonely  and  desolate  was  the  home  at  which  I  arrived  one 
day  too  late,  for  they  had  buried  him,  and  there  was  naught 
left  to  me  of  my  father  save  the  lock  of  hair  which  they  sev 
ered  from  his  head  as  he  lay  in  the  coffin.     Yes,  he  was  gone; 
but  so  long  as  life  and  being  endure,  so  long  shall  fond  re 
membrances  of  him  linger  in  my  memory,  and  if  at  the  last  I 
meet  him  in  the  better  world,  will  it  not  be  in  a  measure  the 
blessed  influence  of  his  dying  message  which  has  led  the  wan 
derer  there? 


CHAPTER  XX. 

GOING  SOUTH. 

AFTER  the  first  shock  of  our  sorrow  was  over,  the  question 
avose  as  to  what  we  were  to  do  in  future  for  our  support. 
Grandma  was  already  old,  while  mother  was  not  so  young  as 
she  had  been  once,  and  neither  could  do  much  toward  their 
own  maintenance,  which  necessarily  would  devolve  upon  us 
their  children.  It  had  ever  been  a  pet  project  of  mine  to  go 
South  as  a  teacher,  and  when  one  day  in  looking  over  a  Bos 
ton  paper  I  accidentally  came  across  the  advertisement  of  a 
Georgia  lady,  Mrs.  A.  I).  Lansing,  who  wished  for  a  private 
governess,  I  resolved  at  once  to  apply  for  the  situation,  great 
ly  fearing  lest  I  might  be  too  late. 

I  was  not,  however;  for  after  waiting  impatiently  for  a  few 
weeks,  I  received  a  letter  from  the  lady  herself,  who,  after 
'^numerating  the  duties  I  was  expected  to  perform  and  the 
branches  I  was  to  teach,  added  in  a  P.S. :  "  Before  making, 
{any  definite  arrangements  with  Miss  Lee,  Mrs.  Lansing  wishes 
to  be  informed  if,  either  by  her  friends  or  herself,  she  is  con 
sidered  pretty,  as  a  person  of  decidedly  ordinary  looks  will 
be  preferred.5' 

"  Spiteful,  jealous  old  thing!'5  exclaimed  Lizzie,  who  was 
looking  over  my  shoulder.  "  I  wouldn't  stir  a  step.5' 

But  I  thought  differently.  My  curiosity  was  roused  to  know 
the  cause  of  her  strange  freak;  and  then,  too,  six  hundred 
dollars  a  year  would  amply  atone  for  any  little  peculiarities  in 
my  employer.  So  I  answered  her  letter  forthwith,  assuring 
her  that  neither  my  friends  nor  myself  had  ever  been  guilt j 


MEADOW    BROOR.  ' 

<s£  calling  me  pretty— in  short,  I  was  decidedly  homely,  anci 
trusted  that  on  that  point  at  least  I  should  please  her. 

"  What  a  fib,  Kosa,"  said  Charlie,  when  I  told  him  what  J 
had  written.     "  You  know  you  are  not  homely.     You  used  to 
be,  I'll  admit;  but  you  are  far  from  being  so  now.     To  be 
sure,  you  are  not  what  many  would  call  handsome,  but  you  y 
are    decidedly  good-looking.     You've    got    handsome  eyes/ 
splendid  hair  " — and  he  pulled  one  of  my  short,  thick  curL? 
by  way  of  adding  emphasis  to  his  words — "  and  your  complex*^ 
ion  is  not  one  half  so  sallow  and  muddy  as  it  used  to  be.     De- v 
pend  upon  it,  this  l  Mrs.  Angeline  Delafield  Lansing,  of  Cedar 
Grove,   will  think  you  have  deceived  her." 

"  Nonsense!"  I  replied,  seating  myself  at  the  piano,  which 
was  now  my  constant  companion,  Mrs.  Lansing  having  •writ 
ten  that  she  was  very  particular  about  music. . 

Now,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  was  not  very  much  of  a  performer; 
but  looking  upon  the  South  very  much  as  I  did  upon  the  far 
West,  I  fancied  that  a  small  amount  of  showy  accomplish 
ments  would  pass  for  the  real  coin.  Still  I  determined  to  play 
as  well  as  possible,  and  so  week  after  week  I  practiced,  until, 
when  I  had  nearly  given  up  all  hopes  of  ever  hearing  from 

the  lady  again,  I  one  day  received  a  letter  bearing  the  W 

postmark,  and  containing  a  check  on  a  Boston  bank  for 
money  sufficient  to  defray  my  expenses.  There  were  also  a 
few  hastily  written  lines,  saying  that  "  Mrs.  Lansing  consid 
ered  our  engagement  as  settled,  but  she  should  not  expect  me 
until  the  latter  part  of  April,  as  she  could  not  immediately 
get  rid  of  her  preserit  governess — a  painted,  insipid  creature 
from  New  York,  and  the  veriest  humbug  in  the  world." 

"  A  sweet  time  you'll  have  of  it  with  madame,"  said  Char 
lie,  "  and  once  for  all  I  advise  you  to  give  up  going.  Why, 
only,  think,  April  there  is  hotter  than  pepper,  and  of  course 
you'll  take  the  fever  and  die." 

But  I  was  not  to  be  persuaded.  The  "  sunny  South  "  had 
for  me  a  peculiar  fascination;  and  then,  too,  there  was  an 
other  reason  which,  more  than  all  others,  prompted  me  to  go. 
Georgia  was  the  home  of  the  "  dark  man,"  as  I  called  him, 
and  though  there  was  hardly  a  probability  of  my  ever  meeting 
him  there,  such  a  thing  was  still  possible,  and  like  Longfel 
low's  Evangeline,  who,  on  the  broad  Mississippi,  felt  that  each 
dip  of  the  oar  carried  her  nearer  to  her  lost  Gabriel,  so  each 
day  I  felt  a  stronger  and  stronger  conviction  that  somewhere 
in  the  southern  land  I  should  find  him. 

In  the  meantime,  Anna  had  been  with  us  for  a  few  weeks, 
but  greatly  changed  from  the  Anna  of  former  times.  List- 


lessly  she  moved  from  room  to  room — never  smiling,  iv 
weeping,  and  seldom  speaking  unless  she  were  first  addressed. 
To  her,  everything  was  dark,  deep  night,  and  such  a  gloom 
did  her  presence  cast  over  us  all,  that  tnough  we  would  gladly 
have  kept  her  with  us,  we  still  felt  relieved  when  she  left  us 
for  a  home  in.  Boston,  where  little  Jamie  soon  became  the  idol 
of  his  grandmother,  whose  subdued  cheerfulness  had  ere  long 
a  visible  eifect  upon  Anna.  Cousin  Will,  too,  had  visited  w*9 
and  after  spending  a  short  time,  had  sailed  with  brother  John 
for  California,  promising  himself  a  joyous  future,  when  he 
should  return  with  money  sufficient  to  purchase  the  old  homea 
stead,  which  he  said  should  be  mother's  as  long  as  she  livedo 

It  was  a  cold,  dark,  snowy  morning  in  the  latter  part  of 
April  when  I  at  last  started  on  my  journey.  The  surface  of 
the  ground  was  frozen  hard,  the  trees  were  leafless  and  bare, 
while  but  few  green  things  gave  token  that  spring  was  with 
us.  It  is  not  strange,  then,  that  I  almost  fancied  myself  in 
another  world,  when  after  a  prosperous  sea  voyage  I  one  morn 
ing  went  on'  shore  at  Charleston,  and  first  breathed  the  soft, 
balmy  air  of  the  South.  Dense  and  green  was  the  foliage  of 
the  trees,  while  thousands  of  roses  and  flowering  shrubs  filled 
the  air  with  a  perfume  almost  sickening  to  the  senses.  From 
Charleston  to  Augusta  was  a  wearisome  ride,  for  the  cars  were 
crowded  and  dirty,  and  there  was  to  me  nothing  remarkably 
pleasing  in  the  long  stretches  of  cypress  swamps  and  pine  bar 
rens  through  which  we  passed. 

It  was  late  in  the  evening  when  we  reached  the  town  of 

C ,  from  whence  I  was  to  proceed  to  W- —  by  stage. 

It  was  a  most  beautiful  night;  and  for  hours  I  watched  the 
soft  moonlight  as  it  glimmered  among  the  trees  which  lined 
either  side  of  the  narrow  road,  and  whose  branches  often  swept 
against  the  windows  of  our  lumbering  vehicle.  It  was  long 

after  sunrise  when  we  arrived  at  W ,  but  so  thickly  wood- 

ed  is  the  country  around,  that  I  obtained  not  a  single  glimpse 
of  the  town  until  I  suddenly  found  myself  "  thar,"  as  the 
driver  said,  dismounting  and  opening  the  door  of  our  prison- 
house.  The  hotel  into  which  I  was  ushered  would  perhaps 
compare  favorably  with  our  country  taverns  at  the  North;  but 
at  each  step  I  took,  I  felt  a  more  and  more  painful  conscious 
ness  that  home,  my  home,  was  far  away. 

After  shaking  the  dust  from  my  traveling-dress,  and  slak 
ing  my  thirst  from  the  big  gourd  shell— my  special  delight — 
Which  hung  by  the  side  of  a  bucket  of  cool  water  which  stood 
on  a  little  stand  in  the  parlor,  I  inquired  for  some  one  who 
Would  take  to  Mrs1-.  T^aspg  *nj  card,  and  thus  apprise  he? 


MEADOW    BEOOK.  153 

of  my  arrival.  The  landlord  immediately  summoned  a  bright, 
handsome  mulatto  boy,  who,  after  receiving  my  orders,  and 
favoring  me  with  a  sight  of  his  ivories,  started  off  bare-headed, 
and  for  that  matter  bare-bodied,  too,  for  Cedar  Grove,  which 
the  landlord  pointed  out  to  me  in  the  distance,  and  which, 
with  its  dense  surroundings  of  trees,  looked  to  me  delightfully 
cool  and  pleasant.  After  waiting  rather  impatiently  for  an 
hour  or  more,  a  large,  old-fashioned  carriage,  drawn  by  two 
rather  poor-looking  horses,  stopped  before  the  door.  It  be 
longed  to  Mrs.  Lansing;  and  the  footman,  jumping  down  from 
the  rack  behind,  handed  me  a  note,  in  which  the  lady  begged 
me  to  come  directly  to  her"  house,  saying  she  was  herself  in 
disposed,  or  she  would  have  come  down  to  meet  me,  and  also 
adding,  that  if  I  would  excuse  her  she  would  rather  not  see 
me  until  supper-time,  when  she  hoped  to  feel  better. 

At  the  extremity  of  Main  Street,  we  turned  in  at  a  ponder 
ous  gate,  and  after  passing  through  two  or  three  fields  or 
lawns,  stopped  at  last  in  front  of  Cedar  Grove,  which  stood 
upon  a  slight  eminence  overlooking  the  town.  In  perfect  de 
light  I  gazed  around  me,  for  it  seemed  the  embodiment  of 
niy  childish  dreams,  and  involuntarily  I  exclaimed,  "  This  is 
indeed  the  sunny,  sunny  South."  It  was  very  beautiful,  that 
spacious  yard  and  garden,  with  their  winding  walks,  on  which 
no  ray  of  sunlight  fell,  so  securely  were  they  shaded  by  the 
cedar  and  the  fir,  the  catalpa,  the  magnolia,  and  the  fig-tree, 
most  of  them  seen  now  by  me  for  the  first  time  in  all  their 
natural  beauty,  reminded  one  so  forcibly  of  Eden.  The  house 
itself  was  a  large,  square  building,  surrounded  on  three  sides 
by  a  piazza,  which  I  afterward  found  was  the  family  sitting- 
room,  it  being  there  that  they  congregated  both  morning  and 
evening.  The  building  had  once  been  white,  but  the  paint 
was  nearly  all  worn  off,  and  it  now  presented  a  rather  dilapi 
dated  appearance,  with  its  broken  shutters  and  decayed  pillars, 
found  which  vines  and  ivy  were  twining.  The  floors  within 
were  bare,  but  scrupulously  clean;  while  the  rooms  lacked 
the  costly  furniture  I  had  confidently  expected  to  see. 

Scarcely  was  I  seated  in  the  parlor,  when  I  heard  a  sweet.* 
childish  voice  exclaim,  "  She's  in  thar — she  is,"  while  at  the 
same  time  a  pair  of  soft  blue  eyes  looked  through  the  crevice 
of  the  door,  and  then  were  as  quickly  withdrawn,  their 
owner  laughing  aloud  as  if  she  had  accomplished  some  daring 
feat,  and  calling  out,  "  I  seen  her,  Hal— I  did.  And  she 
don't  look  cross  neither.  You  dassn't  peek  in  thar,  dast 
you?" 

They  were  my  future  pupils,  1  was  sure;  and  already  any 


154  MEADOW    BROOS. 

heart  warmed  toward  them,  particularly  her  with  the  silvery 
voice,  and  I  was  *ust  thinking  of  going  out  to  find  them,  when 
I  heard  a  light  footstep  on  the  stairs,  and  the  next  moment  a 
tall,  dark-eyed  girl,  apparently  fourteen  or  fifteen  years  of 
age,  entered  the  room,  introducing  herself  as  Miss  Lina  Lans 
ing,  and  welcoming  me  so  cordially  that  I  felt  myself  at  once 
at  home. 

"  Mother,"  said  she,  "  is  indisposed,  as  I  believe  she  wrote 
you,  and  has  sent  me  to  receive  you,  and  ask  what  you  would 
like." 

I  had  scarcely  slept  a  moment  the  nighfc  previous,  so  I  re 
plied  that  if  convenient  I  would  go  immediately  to  my  room, 
feinging  the  bell,  she  summoned  to  the  room  a  short,  dumpj 
mulatto,  whom  she  called  Cressy,  and  wno,  she  said,  was  ta 
be  my  attendant.  Following  net  up  the  stairs,  I  was  ushered 
into  a  large,  airy  chamber,  which,  though  not  furnished  witlj 
elegance,  still  contained  everything  for  my  comfort,  even  to  ft 
huge  feather-bed,  the  si^ht  01  which  made  me  wipe  the  per 
spiration  from  my  facv;. 

"  Shall  I  wash  missus*  feet  first,  or  comb  her  har?"  asked 
the  negress,  pouring  a  pitcher  of  water  into  a  small  bathing 
tub. 

This  was  entirely  new  to  me,  who  had  always  been  accus 
tomed  to  wait  upon  myself,  so  I  declined  her  offers  of  assist 
ance,  telling  her  "  I  preferred  being  alone,  and  could  do  every 
thing  for  myself  which  was  necessary." 

"Laws,  missus!"  she  answered,  rolling  the  whites  of  her 
eyes,  "  'tain't  no  ways  likely  you  can  bresh  and  'range  all  dat 
ar  har,"  pointing  to  my  thick  and  now  somewhat  tangled 
curls.  "Why,  Miss  Lina's  straighter  dan  a  string,  an'  I'll 
be  boun'  she  never  yet  tache  a  comb  to  it  herself." 

With  some  difficulty  I  convinced  the  African  that  her  serv 
ices  were  not  needed,  and  staring  at  me  as  if  I  had  been  a  kind 
of  monstrosity,  she  left  the  room,  the  door  of  which  I  bolted 
against  any  new  intruder.  The  windows  of  my  chamber 
looked  out  upon  the  garden,  where  now  were  blossoming  roses 
and  flowers  of  every  possible  hue  and  form.  A  little  to  the 
right,  and  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away,  was  another  build 
ing,  larger  and  more  imposing  than  that  of  Mrs.  Lansing, 
while  a  great  deal  of  taste  seemed  to  be  displayed  in  the  ar 
rangement  of  the  grounds.  As  nearly  as  1  could  judge,  it 
stood  upon  a  little  hill,  for  the  trees  appeared  to  rise  regularly 
one  above  the  other,  the  fir  and  the  cedar  forming  the  outer 
boundary;  while,  as  I  afterward  learned,  the  inner  rows  OOa* 
eisted  of  the  graceful  magnolia,  tha  wide-gnreadi«gaalalp%  tfai 


MEADOW    BROOK.  155 

beautiful  china-tree,  and  the  persimmon,  whose  leaves  in  the 
autumn  wear  the  most  brilliant  hue,  and  present  so  fine  a  con 
trast  to  the  dark  green  of  the  pine  and  the  fir.  Very,  very 
pleasant  it  looked  to  me,  with  its  white  walls  just  discernible 
amid  the  dense  foliage  which  surrounded  it,  and  for  a  long 
time  I  stood  gazing  toward  it,  wondering  whose  home  it  was, 
and  if  the  inmates  were  as  happy  as  it  seemed  they  might  be. 
At  last,  faint  with  the  fatigue  of  my  journey  and  the  odcr  of 
the  flowers,  which,  from  the  garden  below,  came  in  at  the 
open  window,  I  threw  myself  upon  the  lounge — the  feather-bed 
^looking  altogether  too  formidable — and  was  soon  fast  asleep, 
dreaming  of  Meadow  Brook,  of  the  white  house  on  the  hill, 
and  of  the  dark  man,  who,  I  thought,  told  me  that  it  should 
one  day  be  my  home.  When  at  last  I  awoke,  the  sun  was  no 
longer  shining  in  at  my  windows,  for  it  was  late  in  the  after 
noon,  and  the  fiercest  heat  of  the  day  was  past.  Springing 
up,  I  commenced  dressing  with  some  trepidation,  for  I  ex 
pected  to  meet  the  .mistress  of  the  house  at  supper-time.  My 
toilet  was  nearly  completed  when  I  heard  in  the  hall  the  pat 
ter  of  childish  feet,  while  a  round,  bright  eye  was  applied  to 
the  key-hole.  It  was  the  same  which  had  looked  at  me  in  the 
parlor;  and  anxious  to  see  its  owner,  I  stepped  out  of  the  door 
just  as  a  fairy  creature  with  golden  curls  started  to  run  away. 
1  was  too  quick  for  her,  however,  and  catching  her  in  my 
arms,  I  pushed  back  the  clustering  ringlets  from  her  brow, 
and  gazing  into  her  sunny  face,  asked  her  name. 

Raising  her  white,  waxen  hand,  she  did  for  me  the  office  I 
had  done  for  her,  viz.,  pushed  back  my  curls,  and  looking  in 
my  face,  answered,  "  Ma  says  it's  Jessica,  but  Lina,  Hal,  and 
Uncle  Dick  call  me  Jessie,  and  I  like  that  a  heap  the  best. 
You  are  our  new  governess,  ain't  you?" 

She  was  singularly  beautiful,  and  yet  it  was  not  so  much 
the  regularity  of  her  features  nor  the  clearness  of  her  com 
plexion  which  made  her  so.  It  was  the  light  which  shone  in 
her  lustrous  blue  eyes,  which  gave  her  the  expression  of  an 
angel,  for  such  she  was — an  angel  in  her  Southern  home, 
which,  without  her,  would  have  been  dark  and  cheerless.  Her 
brother,  whom  she  called  Hal,  was  three  years  older,  and  not 
nearly  so  handsome.  He  was  very  dark,  and  it  seemed  to  me 
that  I  had  seen  a  face  like  his  before;  but  ere  I  could  remem 
ber  where,  a  faint  voice  from  a  piazza,  which  faced  the  east 
and  was  now  quite  cool,  called  out,  ."  Halbert,  Halbert,  come 
iere." 

"  That's  ma,"  said  Jessie,  getting  down  from  my  arms. 
"  That's  ma— come  and  see  her;"  and  following  her.  I  sooa 


MEADOW    BROOK. 

stood  in  the  presence  of  Mrs.  Lansing,  who  was  reclining 
rather  indolently  in  a  large  willow  chair,  while  at  her  back 
was  a  riegress  half  asleep,  but  appearing  wide  awake  whenever 
her  mistress  moved. 

She  was  a  chubby,  rosy-cheeked  woman,  apparently  thirty- 
five  years  of  age.  Her  eyes  were  very  black,  and  she  had  a 
habit  of  frequently  shutting  them,  so  as  to  shoW  off  the  long,, 
fringed  eyeUshes.  On  the  whole,  I  thought,  she  was  ^uit© 
prepossessing  in  her  appearances,  an  opinion,  however,  which  I 
changed  ere  long;  for  by  the  time  I  reached  her,  there  was  ^, 
dark  cloud  on  her  brow,  evidently  of  displeasure  or  of  disap-' 
pointment.  Still,  she  was  very  polite,  offering  me  her  jeweled 
hand,  and  saying,  "  Miss  Lee,  I  suppose.  You  are  welcome 
to  Georgia;"  then,  after  an  instant,  she  added,  "  You  don't 
look  at  all  like  I  thought  you  would." 

I  was  uglier  than  she  expected,  I  presumed,  and  the  tears 
started  to  my  eyes  as  I  replied,  "  I  wrote  to  you  that  I  was 
very  plain,  but  after  a  little  I  shall  look  better;  I  am  tired 
now  with  traveling.*' 

A  strange,  peculiar  smile  flitted  over  her  face,  while  she  in*' 
tently  regarded  me  as  if  to  assure  herself  of  my  sanity.  I 
was  puzzled,  and  in  my  perplexity  I  said  something  about  re 
turning  home  if  my  looks  were  so  disagreeable.  "  They  were 
used  to  me  there,  and  didn't  mind  it,"  I  said,  at  the  same 
time  leaning  my  head  against  the  vine-wreathed  pillar,  I 
sobbed  aloud.  Lithe  as  a  kitten,  little  Jessica  sprung  up  be 
hind  me,  and  winding  her  arms  round  my  neck,  asked  why  I 
cried. 

"  Did  ma  make  you  cry?"  she  said.  "  Uncle  Dick  says 
she  makes  all  the  governesses  cry." 

"  Jessica,  Jessica,  get  down  this  moment,"  said  the  lady. 
"  I  did  not  intend  to  hurt  Miss  Lee's  feelings,  and  do  not 
understand  how  I  could  have  done  so.  She  is  either  acting  a 
part,  or  else  she  strangely  misunderstands  me." 

I  never  acted  a  part  in  my  life,  and,  somewhat  indignant,  I 
wiped  away  my  tears  and  asked  "  what  she  meant," 

There  was  the  same  smile  on  her  face  which  I  had  noticed 
before,  as  she  said,  "  Do  you  really  think  yourself  ugly?" 

Of  course  I  did.  I  had  never  thought  otherwise,  for  hadn't 
I  been  told  so  ever  since  I  was  a  child  no  larger  than  Jessie, 
and  the  impression  thus  early  received  had  never  been  eradi 
cated.  Thus  I  answered  her,  and  she  believed  me,  for  she  re 
plied,  "  You  are  mistaken,  Miss  Lee,  for  however  plain  yon 
might  have  been  in  childhood,  you  are  not  so  now.  Neither 
do  I  understand  how  with  those  e»eeb  that  hair  and  brow,  you 


3&00&  15 


Can  think  yourself  ugly.  I  do  not  believe  you  meant  to  de-* 
ceive  me,  but,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  am  disappointed;  but  that 
can  not  now  be  helped,  and  we'll  make  the  best  of  it." 

Perfectly  astonished,  I  listened  to  her  vremarks,  giving  her 
the  credit  of  meaning  what  she  said,  and  for  the  first  time  in 
my  life  I  felt  as  I  suppose  folks  must  feel  who  think  they  are 
handsome.  After  this  little  storm  was  over,  she  evidently 
exerted  herself  to  be  agreeable  for  a  few  moments,  and  then 
rather  abruptly  asked  me  how  old  I  was. 

"  Not  quite  eighteen!"  she  repeated  in  «ome  surprise, 
f<  Why,  I  supposed  you  were  twenty-five  at  le&st!  Don  t  you 
think  she  looks  older  than  Ada?"  turning  to  Lina,  who  an 
swered  quickly,  "  Oh,  no,  mother,  nothing  like  as  old.  "Why, 
I  shouldn't  think  her  over  seventeen  at  the  most.5t 

NOJV,  among  my  other  misfortunes  I  numbered  that  of 
"  looking  old  as  the  hills,"  so  I  didn't  care  particularly  for 
what  they  said,  though  it  struck  me  as  rather  singular  that 
Mrs.  Lansing  should  thus  discuss  me  in  my  presence;  but  this 
thought  was  lost  in  the  more  absorbing  one  as  to  who  the  Ada 
could  be  of  whom  she  had  spoken.  Pcbsibty  it  was  Ada  Mon- 
trose,  though  I  ardently  hoped  to  the  coutrary,  for  well  I 
knew  there  was  no  happiness  for  me  where  she  was.  Think 
ing  it  would  be  on  a  par  with  the  questions  put  to  me,  I  was 
on  the  point  of  asking  who  Ada  was,  when,  we  were  summoned 
to  supper,  which  consisted  mostly  of  bhoiled  chickens,  strong 
coffee,  iced  milk,  egg  bread,  and  hoecakes,  if  I  except  the  row 
of  sables  who  grouped  themselves  round  the  table,  and  the 
feather  girl,  whose  efforts  to  keep  awake  amused  me  so  much 
that  I  almost  forgot  to  eat.  We  were  nearly  through  when  a 
handsome  mulatto  boy  entered  and  handed  a  letter  to  his  mis 
tress,  which  she  immediately  opened,  holding  it  so  that  the 
address  could  be  read  by  Halbert,  who,  after  spelling  it  onts 
exclaimed,  "  That's  from  Uncle  Dick,  I  know!" 

"  Is  he  coming  home?"  asked  Jessie,  dropping  her  knife 
md.  fork,  while  even  Lina,  who  seldom  evinced  much  interest 
in  anything,  roused  up  and  repeated  the  question  which  Jessie 
had  asked. 

"  Yes.  He  is  in  New  York  now,"  said  Mrs.  Lansing, 
"  and  will  be  here  in  a  week." 

"Good!"  exclaimed  Halbert. 

"  Oh,  I'm  right  glad,"  said  Jessie,  while  Lina  asked  if  Ada 
was  with  him. 

"  No,"  returned  Mrs.  Lansing.  "  She  is  still  in  Paris  with 
her  cousin,  and  will  not  return  irati)  autumn." 

"I'm  glad  of  that,"  said.  Lma,  to  which  Hal  rejoined, 


158  MEADOW    BROOK. 

"  And  so  am  I.  She's  so  proud  and  stuck  up  1  can't  beai 
her." 

"  Children,  children/'  spoke  Mrs.  Lansing,  rather  sternly^ 
at  the  same  time  rising  from  the  table. 

It  was  not  yet  Sunset;  and  as  soon  as  we  were  again  assem- 
bled  upon  the  piazza,  Halbert  and  Jessie,  who  were  never  still, 
asked  permission  to  "  run  up  to  Uncle  Dick's,  and  tell  the 
servants  he  was  coming  home." 

Mrs.  Lansing  made  no  objection;  and  then  they  proposed 
that  I  should  accompany  them.  Feeling  that  a  walk  would 
do  me  good,  I  turned  toward  Mrs.  Lansing  for  her  consent, 
It  was  given,  of  course;  but  had  I  known  her  better  I  should 
have  detected  a  shade  of  displeasure  on  her  face. 

"  You  had  better  go  too/'  said  she  to  Lina;  but  Lina  was 
too  listless  and  indolent,  and  so  we  went  without  her,  little 
Jessie  holding  my  hand,  and  jumping  instead  of  walking. 

"Eva's  mighty  lazy,"  said  she,  at  last;  "  don't  you  think 
so?" 

"  Who's  lazy?"  I  asked;  and  she  replied: 

"  Thar,  I  done  forgot  again,  and  called  her  Eva.  Her 
name  is  Evangeline,  and  we  used  to  call  her  Eva,  until  moth- 
ex  read  a  bad  book  that  had  little  Eva  in  it,  and  then  she 
called  her  Lina." 

"  'Twan't  a  bad  book,  neither!"  exclaimed  Halbert,  stop 
ping  suddenly.  "  Uncle  Dick  said  ?t  won't;  but  it  made 
mother  mad,  I  tell  you,  and  now  when  she  gets  rarin'  he  calls 
her  Mrs.  St.  Clare." 

I  needed  no  one  to  tell  me  that  it  was  "  Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin  "  to  which  he  referred,  but  I  said  nothing  except  to 
chide  the  children  for  their  negro  language. 

"  I  know  we  talk  awful,"  said  Jessie,  brushing  her  curls 
from  her  eyes.  "  Uncle  Dick  says  we  do;  but  I  mean  to  learn 
better.  I  don't  talk  half  like  I  used  to." 

I  could  not  her|)  smiling  in  spite  of  myself  upon  the  little 
creature  bounding  and  frisking  at  my  side.  Uncle  Dick 
seemed  to  be  her  oracle,  and  after  looking  around  to  make 
sure  that  no  one  heard  me,  I  asked  "  who  he  was?" 

"  Why,  he's  Uncle  Dick,"  said  she;  "  the  bestest  uncle  in 
the  world;"  while  Halbert  added,  "  He's  got  a  heap  of 
money,  top;  and  once,  when  ma  thought  I  was  asleep,  I  heard 
her  tell  Lina  that  if  he  didn't  get  married  it  would  Ibe  divided 
between  us,  and  I  should  have  the  most,  'cause  I'm  named 
after  him — Richard  Halbert  Delaneld  Lansing — and  they  call 
eie  Hoi,  for  short.  I  told  Uncle  Dick  what  mother  said,  and 


MEADOW    B  ROOK.  159 

I  teH  you  he  looked  blacker'n  a  nigger;  and  somehow,  after 
that  he  took  to  ridin'  and  foolin'  with  Ada  wonderfully." 

As  yet  everything  with  me  was  comparatively  conjecture. 
I  did  not  know  positively  that  the  Uncle  Dick  of  the  children 
was  the  "dark  man"  of  Rosa  Lee;  but  the  answer  to  my 
next  question  would  decide  it,  and  half  tremblingly  was  it  put* 
"  Who  is  this  Ada.  What  is  her  other  name?" 

"  Ada  Montrose,  and  she  lives  with  us.  Uncle  Dick  is  her 
guardian,"  said  Halbert,  thro  whig  a  bit  of  dirt  at  the  negro 
boy  who  accompanied  us,  and  who  returned  the  young  gentle- 
man's  salute  with  interest. 

I  was  satisfied,  and  did  not  wish  to  hear  any  more.  1 
should  meet  him  again,  and  tinged  as  my  temperament  is 
with  a  love  of  the  marvelous,  I  could  not  help  believing  that 
Providence  had  led  me  there.  By  this  time  we  had  reached 
Sunny  Bank,  as  it  was  very  appropriately  called,  and  never 
before  had  I  seen  so  lovely  a  spot.  The  grounds,  which  were 
very  spacious,  were  surrounded  on  all  sides  by  a  hedge  of  the 
beautiful  Cherokee  rose,  and,  unlike  those  of  Cedar  Grove, 
were  laid  out  with  perfect  taste  and  order.  Mr.  Delafield,  as 
I  afterward  learned,  had  spent  much  time  at  the  North,  and 
in  the  arrangement  of  his  house  and  grounds  he  had  not  only 
imitated,  but  far  surpassed  the  style  of  the  country  seats 
which  are  so  often  found  within  a  few  miles  of  our  eastern 
cities.  For  this  he  was  in  a  measure  indebted  to  Dame  Nat 
ure,  who  at  the  South  scatters  her  favors  with  a  lavish  hand, 
sometimes  beautifying  and  adorning  objects  far  better  than 
the  utmost  skill  of  man  could  do.  The  gate  at  the  entrance 
of  Sunny  Bank  was  a  huge  wooden  structure,  having  for  its 
posts  two  immense  oak-trees,  around  whose  trunks  the  grace 
ful  ivy  twined,  and  then  hung  in  fanciful  festoons  from  sev 
eral  of  the  lower  branches. 

As  I  had  supposed,  the  house  itself  stood  upon  a  slight  ele 
vation,  and  the  walk  which  led  up  to  it  was  bordered  on  either 
side  by  the  mock  orange,  whose  boughs,  meeting  overhead, 
formed  an  effectual  screen  from  the  rays  of  the  sun.  The 
building,  though  fashioned  in  the  same  style  as  that  of  Mrs. 
Lansing,  was  much  larger,  and  had  about  it  a  far  more  stylish 
air.  Much  of  the  furniture  had  been  brought  from  New 
York,  Halbert  said;  adding  that  "  all  the  floors  were  covered 
with  matting  in  the  summer,  and  elegant  Turkey  carpets  in 
the  winter." 

In  the  rear  of  the  house  were  the  cabins  of  the  negroes,  who 
were  lounging  idly  about,  some  on  the  ground,  some  in  the 
doors,  and  some  stretched  at  full  length  upon  the  back  of  the 


160  MEADOW    BKOOK. 

piazza,  evidently  enjoying  the  cool  evening  breeze.  At  sig&t 
of  us,  they  roused  up  a  little,  and  when  Halbert,  after  an 
nouncing  that  I  was  Miss  Lee,  the  new  governess,  further  in- 
.t'ormed  them  that  their  master  was  coming  home  in  a  few  days, 
they  instantly  gathered  round  us,  evincing  so  much  joy  as  to  as 
tonish  me,  who  had  heretofore  looked  upon  a  Southern  slave 
holder  as  a  tyrant  greatly  dreaded  by  his  vassals. 

"  You  must  like  Mr.  Delafield  very  much,"  I  ventured  to 
remark  to  one  old  lady,  whose  hair  was  white  as  wool. 

"  Like  Mass'r  Richard!"  said  she,  rolling  up  her  eyes. 
£(  Lor'  bless  you,  miss,  like  don't  begin  to  'spress  it.  Why,  I 
fa'rly  worships  him;  for  didn't  I  tend  him  when  he  was  a 
nussin'  baby?  and  hain't  these  old  arms  toted  him  more'n  a 
million  of  miles?" 

Here  her  voice  was  drowned  by  the  others,  all  of  whom 
united  in  declaring  him  the  "  berry  best  mass'r  in  Georgy." 
This  did  not,  of  course,  tend  in  any  way  to  diminish  the  inter 
est  which  I  felt  in  the  stranger;  and,  ere  I  was  aware  of  it,  I 
found  myself  anticipating  his  return  almost  as  anxiously  as 
the  negroes  themselves. 

It  was  dark  when  we  reached  Cedar  Grove;  and  as  there 
was  company  in  the  parlor,  I  went  immediately  to  my  room. 
I  had  not  been  there  long,  however,  when  a  servant  was  sent 
up,  saying  that  "  Mrs.  Lansing  wished  me  to  come  down  and 
play." 

This  was  an  ordeal  which  I  greatly  dreaded;  for,  from  what 
I  had  seen  of  Mrs.  Lansing,  I  knew  she  would  criticise  my 
performance  closely;  and  fearing  inability  to  acquit  myself  at 
all  creditably,  I  trembled  violently  as  I  descended  to  the  par 
lor,  which  was  nearly  full  of  visitors. 

"  Miss  Lee,  ladies,"  said  Mrs.  Lansing,  at  the  same  time 
motioning  toward  the  music-stool  as  the  seat  I  was  expected 
to  occupy. 

There  was  a  film  before  my  eyes  as  I  took  rny  post  and 
nervously  turned  over  the  leaves  of  a  music-book,  which,  by 
the  way,  was  wrong  side  up,  though  I  didn't  know  it  then. 
I  had  heard  much  of  stage  fright,  and  sure  am  I  that  never 
did  poor  mortal  suffer  more  from  an  attack  of  that  nature  than 
did  1  during  the  few  moments  that  I  sat  there,  trying  to  re 
call  something  familiar,  something  which  I  knew  I  could  play. 
At  last,  when  the  patience  of  the  company  seemed  nearly  ex 
hausted,  I  dashed  off  at  random,  playing  parts  of  two  or  three 
liiferent  tunes,  changing  the  key  as  many  times,  using  the 
loud  pedal  when  I  should  have  used  the  soft,  and  at  last  end 
ing  with  the  most  horrid  discord  to  which  my  ears  ever  list- 


MEADOW    BKOOK.  I6l 

ened.  The  audience  were,  undoubtedly,  thunder-struck,  for 
they  spoke  not  for  the  space  of  a  minute;  and,  with  a  feeling 
of  desperation,  I  was  about  to  make  a  second  effort,  hoping 
thereby  to  retrieve  my  character,  when  Mrs.  Lansing  said,  in 
a  cold,  sarcastic  voice,  "  That  will  do,  Miss  Lee;  we  are  per 
fectly  satisfied."  Then,  turning  to  a  haughty-looking  young 
lady  who  sat  by  the  window,  she  continued,  "  Come,  Miss 
Porter;  you  certainly  can't  refuse  to  favor  us  now." 

With  a  very  consequential  air,  for  which  I  could  not  blame 
her,  Miss  Porter  took  my  place,  and,  without  any  apparent 
effort,  killed  my  poor  performance  outright;  for  she  executed 
admirably  some  of  the  most  difficult  music.  When  she  had 
finished,  the  ladies  rose  to  go,  Mrs.  Lansing  following  them 
to  the  door,  and  whispering — I  know  she  did — something 
about  "  her  being  humbugged  again." 

When  she  returned  to  the  room,  I  stole  a  glance  at  her  face, 
which  was  very  red,  and  indicative  of  anything  but  good-will 
toward  me.  I  felt  the  hot  tears  rising;  but  when,  with  a 
bang,  she  closed  the  piano,  and  turning  toward  me,  demand 
ed  "  how  long  I  had  taken  music  lessons,"  I  forced  them 
back,  and  answered  promptly,  "  five  quarters." 

"  Only  five  quarters!"  she  repeated  in  evident  amazement. 
"  Why,  Lina  has  taken  three  years,  and  she  wouldn't  consider 
herself  competent  to  teach,  even  were  she  poor  and  obliged  to 
do  so." 

The  latter  part  of  this  speech  I  did  not  fancy;  for  even  if  a 
person  is  poor  and  obliged  to  work,  they  do  not  often  like  to 
be  taunted  with  it;  at  least,  /didn't;  but  I  couldn't  help  my 
self.  I  was  at  the  mercy  of  Mrs.  Lansing,  who  proceeded  to 
say -that  "  she  had  often  been  deceived  by  Northern  teachers, 
who  thought  to  palm  themselves  off  for  better  scholars  than 
they  really  were;  and  now  she  had  almost  come  to  the  conclu 
sion  that  they  were  not  so  well  educated  as  the  majority  of 
•Southern  girls. " 

"  /,  at  least,  never  intended  to  deceive  you,"  said  I.  '•  I 
told  you  in  my  letter  that  I  was  not  an  accomplished  musician, 
and  still  you  consented  to  employ  me." 

Here  I  broke  down  entirely,  arid  wept  passionately,  telling 
her,  in  broken  sentences,  that  "  however  mortifying  it  would 
be,  I  was  willing  to  go  back  if  she  wished  it." 

At  this  point,  little  Jessie,  who  all  the  time  had  been  pres 
ent,  came  to  my  side,  and  winding  her  arms  around  my  neck, 
said,  "  You  sha'ii't  go  horns.  We  like  you — Hal  and  me — 
and  you  sha'n't  go — shall  she,  Hal?" 

Thus  appealed  to,  Hal  took  up  my  cause,  wliich  he  warm!} 


162  MEADOW    BROOR. 

defended;  telling  his  mother  "  she  made  every  governess  crys 
jid  told  them  they  didn't  know  anything,  when  they  did,  for 
Uncle  Dick  said  so,  and  he  knew;  and  that,  as  for  music, 
Miss  Lee  played  a  heap  better  than  Lina,  because  she  played 
something  new — something  he  never  heard  before." 

"Nor  any  one  else,"  muttered  Mrs.  Lansing,  while  Ha  t 
3on tinned:  "  Uncle  Dick  says  the  best  teachers  sometime^ 
don't  play  at  all,  and  Miss  Lee  sha'n't  go  home." 

Very  faintly  I  repeated  my  willingness  to  do  so,  if  Mrs, 
Lansing  thought  best;  to  which  she  replied,  "  I  will  deal  fair 
ly  with  you,  Miss  Lee.  I  am  disappointed  in  your  musical 
abilities,  and  if  I  find  you  are  deficient  in  other  things  I  shall 
be  obliged  to  dismiss  you;  but  for  a  few  days  I  will  keep  you 
on  trial." 

"  Uncle  Dick  won't  let  you  send  her  away,  I  know,"  said 
and  this,  I  am  inclined  to  think,  determined  her  upon 
getting  rid  of  me  before  his  return. 

Still,  I  was  ostensibly  upon  trial;  and  whoever  has  been  in 
a  similar  situation  will  readily  understand  that  I  could  not,  of 
course,  do  myself  justice.  With  Mrs.  Lansing's  prying  eyes 
continually  upon  me,  I  really  acted  as  though  I  were  half 
witted;  and  by  the  close  of  the  second  day,  I  myself  began  to 
doulit  the  soundness  of  my  mind,  wondering  why  the  folks  at 
home  had  never  discovered  my  stupidity.  Continual  excite 
ment  kept  my  chjeeks  in  a  constant  glow,  while  the  remainder 
of  my  face  was  quite  pale,  and  several  times,  in  their  moth 
er's  presence,  the  children  told  me  "  how  handsome  I  was!" 
This  annoyed  her — and  on  the  morning  of  the  third  day,  she 
informed  me  that  ske  would  defray  my  expenses  back  to 
Massachusetts,  where  I  could  tell  them  I  was  too  young  to 
suit  her;  adding,  that  I  might  as  well  go  the  next  morning. 
This  was  a  death-blow  to  my  hopes;  and  so  violent  was  the  , 
shock  that  I  could  not  even  weep.  Hal  and  Jessie  were  furi-  \ 
ous,  declaring  I  should  not  go;  and  when  I  convinced  them 
that  I  must,  they  insisted  upon  my  teaching  that  day,  at  all 
events. 

To  this  I  consented;  and  as  Mrs.  Lansing  had  now  no  ob 
ject  in  watching  me,  she  absented  herself  from  the  school 
room  entirely,  leaving  me  to  do  as  I  pleased.  The  conse* 
quence  was,  that  my  benumbed  faculties  awoke  again  to  life, 
and  everything  which,  for  the  last  ten  days,  I  seemed  to  have 
forgotten,  came  back  to  me;  while  e^en  the  children  noticed 
aow  differently  I  appeared.  ^ 


H1EADOW 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

UNCLE   DICK. 

day  was  drawing  to  a  close.  The  children's  lessons 
were  over,  the  last  I  was  to  hear.  Their  books  were  piled  ; 
away,  awaiting  the  arrival  of  my  successor,  and  at  my  request  ^ 
I  was  left  in  the  school-room  alone  —  alone  with  my  grief, 
which  was  indeed  bitter  and  hard  to  bear,  for  I  knew  that  in 
justice  _iad  been  done  me,  and  most  keenly  I  felt  the  mortifi 
cation  of  returning  home  in  disgrace.  Very  beautiful  to  me 
seemed  that  fair  South  land  of  which  I  had  dreamed  so  oft, 
and  1  felt  that  I  could  not  leave  it. 

Through  the  open  window  I  heard  the  shouts  of  the  chil 
dren,  but  I  did  not  heed  them,  nor  observe  that  throughout 
the  entire  house  there  seemed  to  be  an  unusual  commotion. 
An  hour  went  by,  and  then  in  the  hall  I  heard  the  voice  of 
Jessie,  and  the  words  she  uttered  sent  an  electric  thrill  through 
my  nerves,  and  brought  me  to  my  feet,  for  they  were,  "  Come 
this  way,  Uncle  Dick.  I  reckon  she's  in  the  school-room." 

The  next  moment  he  stood  before  me,  the  dark  man,  scan 
ning  me  curiously,  but  still  without  anything  like  rudeness  in 
his  gaze. 

"  Uncle  Dick's  come.  This  is  him,"  said  Jessie,  leading 
him  toward  the  spot  where  I  stood. 

A  bright,  beautiful  smile  broke  over  his  strongly  marked 
features,  and  I  felt  as  if  a  gleam  of  sunlight  had  shone  for  an 
instant  over  my  pathway.  Taking  my  hand  in  his,  he  bid 
Jessie  leave  us,  as  he  wished  to  see  me  alone.  She  started  to 
obey,  but  ere  she  reached  the  door,  she  turned  back,  and  ask 
ing  him  to  stoop  down,  whispered  in  his  ear,  loudly  enough  >, 
for  me  to  hear,  "  I  want  you  to  like  her." 

"  Of  course  I  shall,"  he  replied,  and  again  that  smile  broks 
over  his  face. 

I  did  not  expect  him  to  recognize  me,  for  with  the  exception 
of  the  night  at  the  theater  he  had  never  fairly  seen  my  feat 
ures,  and  still  I  was  conscious  of  a  feeling  of  disappointment 
when  I  saw  that  he  evidently  had  no  suspicion  of  ever  having 
met  me  before.  When  I  spoke,  however,  and  he  heard  the 
sound  of  my  voice,  he  started  and  looked  me  more  fully  in  the 
face;  but  whatever  his  thoughts  might  have  been,  he  seemed 
to  be  satisfied  that  he  was  mistaken,  and  seating  himself  at 
my  side,  he  commenced  conversing  with  me  as  familiarly  as  if 
he  had  known  me  all  my  life.  Gradually  our  conversation 


164 

turned  upon  books,  and  ere  I  was  aware  of  it  I  passed  through 
what  I  now  know  to  have  been  a  pretty  thorough  examination 
of  all  the  branches  which  Mrs.  Lansing  had  wished  me  to 
teach,  but  so  adroitly 'was  the  whole  thing  managed  that  it 
seemed  like  a  quiet,  pleasant  talk,  though  I  did  wonder  at  his 
asking  so  many  questions.  French  was  the  last  subject  dis 
cussed,  and  here  I  was  at  fault,  for  my  pronunciation  I  well 
knew  was  bad,  although  Mr.  Delafield,  who  was  himself  a  fine 
French  scholar,  told  me  it  was  quite  as  good  as  the  majority 
of  the  Americans  who  had  neither  lived  in  Paris  nor  had  the 
advantage  of  a  native  teacher. 

"  You  play,  I  believe.  I  would  like  to  hear  you,"  he  said 
at  last,  laying  his  hand  on  my  shoulder,  as  if  he  would  lead 
me  to  the  parlor. 

Instantly  the  blood  rushed  to  my  face,  for  since  the  night 
of  my  disgrace  I  had  not  touched  the  piano,  neither  did  I  wish 
to  again.  So  I  tried  to  excuse  myself,  and  when  he  insisted, 
I  finally  said,  with  my  eyes  full  of  tears,  "  Please  excuse  me, 
sir,  for  I  can't  play.  I  failed  before  your  sister,  and  I  shall 
do  the  same  before  you." 

(<  No  you  won't,"  he  replied,  at  the  same  time  drawing  my 
arm  within  his  and  leading  me  toward  the  door.  "  You  have 
nothing  to  fear,  Miss  Lee,  and  if  you  acquit  yourself  half  as 
creditably  here  as  you  have  elsewhere,  I  shall  be  satisfied." 

A  faint  perception  of  the  truth  began  to  dawn  upon  me5 
and  I  looked  up  at  him  so  earnestly  that  he  stopped,  and  smil 
ing  down  upon  me,  he  said,  "  You  have  taught  a  district 
school  in  New  England,  I  believe?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  I  answered. 

"  And  you  were  examined,  of  course?" 
*  Yes,  sir,  and  got  a  certificate,  too,"  I  said,  eagerly. 

"  I  presume  you  did,"  he  continued,  "  and  if  necessary  I 
can  give  you  another,  for  I  have  been  doing  nothing  more  or 
less  than  trying  to  find  out  how  much  you  know.  As  I  have 
before  hinted,  I  am  perfectly  satisfied,  and  unless  you  leave 
from  choice,  you  will  remain  at  Cedar  Grove." 

He  spoke  as  one  having  full  authority  to  do  as  he  pleased5 
and  I  instinctively  felt  that  though  nominally  Mrs.  Lansing 
was  mistress  there,  lie,  in  reality,  was  the  leader,  the  head, 
whose  bidding  every  one  obeyed.  The  change  from  utter 
despondency  to  almost  perfect  happiness  was  too  great,  and 
withdrawing  my  hand  from  his  arm,  I  sat  down  upon  the 
stairs  and  cried  like  a  child,  while  he  stood,  looking  down 
upon  me,  and  thinking,  I  dare  say,  that  I  was  a  very  foolish 
girl.  At  last,  when  I  thought  his  patience  was  nearly  ea> 


MEADOW    BROOK.  165 

jiausted,  I  wiped  my  eyes,  and  starting  up,  said,  "  You  have 
made  me  very  happy,  Mr.  Delafield,  for  I  could  not  have 
borne  the  disgrace  of  being  sent  home  as  incompetent.  I  can 
play  for  you  now,  or  for  Mrs.  Lansing  either." 

And  the  result  proved  that  I  was  right,  for  I  exceeded  my 
own  expectations,  and  was  astonished  at  myself-. 

"  Angeline,"  said  he,  in  a  slightly  commanding  voice,  as 
that  lady  looked  curiously  in  at  the  door,  "  Angeline,  come 
here;"  and  she  crossed  over  to  his  side,  where  he  detained  her 
by  placing  his  arm  around  her  waist. 

For  a  moment  then  I  wavered,  for  though  I  could  not  see) 
I  could  feel  the  haughty  gaze  of  the  large  black  eyes,  which  I 
knew  were  bent  upon  me. 

"  You  have  done  well,  Miss  Lee,"  he  said,  when  at  last  I 
arose  from  the  instrument,  at  the  same  time  playfully  touch 
ing  my  cheeks,  which  were  burning  with  feverish  excitement. 

That  night,  after  I  had  retired  to  my  room,  Halbert  and 
Jessie  came  to  the  door,  requesting  permission  to  come  in.  I 
admitted  them,  when  Jessie,  jumping  into  my  lap,  said,  "  Oh, 
I'm  so  glad  you  are  going  to  stay.  Hal  says  so. 

"  Yes,"  put  in  Hal,  "  Uncle  Dick  told  me  that  you  mustn't 
be  sent  away,  for  you  were  a  heap  better  scholar  than  she  had 
represented  you  to  be." 

"  Perhaps  it  will  not  be  as  Mr.  Delafield  says,"  I  remarked; 
and  Hal  quickly  ?e  joined,  "  Yes  it  will;  ma  does  just  what  he 
tells  her  to  do;  and  then,  too,  he  pays  the  governess,  for  I 
heard  him  say  so.  and  he  told  her  if  you  were  dismissed  'twas 
the  last  one  he'd  hire.  And  he  said  she  must  treat  you  bet 
ter  than  she  did  Miss  Rawson,  for  you  were  very  young,'  and 
little  things  hurt  your  feelings,  and  when  Ada  came  home 
she  mustn't  domineer  over  you,  for  he  wouldn't  allow  it. 
Oh,  I  like  Uncle  Dick.  Don't  you?" 

The  moonlight  was  streaming  across  the  floor,  but  it  did 
not  reveal  the  mush  which  deepened  on  my  cheek  as  I  faintly 
answered  "  Yes,"  bidding  him  at  the  same  time  not  to  tell  of 
it,  for  I  began  to  feel  afraid  of  the  boy's  loquacity.  That' 
night  I  dreamed  of  Uncle  Dick,  whose  name  was  the  last 
which  sounded  in  my  ears  when  I  fell  asleep,  and  the  first  oi 
which  I  thought  when  I  awoke  in  the  morning.  As  I  was 
dressing,  I  heard  little  Jessie  on  the  piazza,  singing  in  her 
ohildish  way,  '*  /  love  UnclG  Dick,  I  do,  and  so  does  Hal,  and 
so  does  Mis-ses  Lee!" 

"  Who  told  you  that,  Pussy?"  asked  a  voice  which  I  recog- 
oized  as  Mr.  DelafielcFs,  "and  very  nervously  I  listened  for  Jea- 


166  MEADOW    BKOOK. 

sie's  answer,  which  was,  "  Oh,  I  know  she  does,  Hal  asked 
her  didn't  she  like  you,  and  she  said  she  did." 

"  Rather  early  to  avow  a  preference,  I  think.  I  shouldn't 
wonder  if  a  Miss  Rawson  performance  were  to  be  enacted  a 
second  time,"  said  another  voice,  which  I  knew  to  be  that  of 
Mrs.  Lansing,  who  had  joined  her  brother  upon  the  piazza. 

"  Angeline,"  said  Mr.  Delafield,  somewhat  sternly,  "  don't 
be  foolish.  If  Halbert  asked  Miss  Lee  if  she  liked  me,  wasn't 
it  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world  for  her  to  say  *  Yes/ 
I  do  wish  you'd  rid  yourself  of  the  impression  that  every  girl 
who  looks  at  me  is  in  love  with  me,  or  that  I  am  in  love  with 
every  lady  to  whom  I  choose  to  be  polite." 

"  Do  you  think  Miss  Lee  pretty?"  asked  Mrs.  Lansing 
without  paying  any  attention  to  his  last  remark. 

Up  to  this  point  I  could  not  well  help  overhearing  kheir 
conversation,  for  I  was  arranging  my  hair  before  the  mirror 
which  stood  near  the  window;  but  now  there  was  no  longer 
any  necessity  for  my  remaining  there,  and  I  resolutely  walked 
away,  though  I  would  have  given  much  to  have  heard  his  an 
swer.  He  had  gone  home  when  I  went  down  to  the  break 
fast-room,  where  I  found  Mrs.  Lansing,  who  greeted  me  rather 
coldly,  and  appeared  slightly  embarrassed.  I  had  purposely 
donned  my  traveling  dress,  for  though  Mr.  Delafield  had  said 
I  was  to  stay,  I  felt  that  she  too  must  do  the  same  ere  I  had  a 
right  to  remain.  The  sight  of  my  dress  seemed  to  annoy  her, 
for  it  brought  to  her  cheeks  two  bright  red  spots  which  grew 
deeper  all  the  while  we  were  at  breakfast.  When  it  was  over, 
and  the  children  had  gone  out,  I  ^ery  composedly  asked  her 
"  how  long  before  the  stage  would  call  for  me." 

Turning  her  flashing  black  eyes  upon  me,  she  said,  "  Do 
you  mean  to  insult  me,  Miss  Lee?  The  stage  has  been  gone 
an  hour.  I  supposed  you  knew  you  were  to  remain." 

"  Mr.  Delafield  intimated  as  much,"  I  answered;  "  but 
my  engagement  was  with  you,  not  Mm,  and  until  I  hear  from 
you  that  I  am  expected  to  stay,  I  do  not  of  course  feel  at  lib 
erty  to  do  so." 

She  brightened  up  perceptibly,  and  after  saying  something 
about  Richard's  meddling  in  her  affairs,  replied,  "  I  presume 
you  were  embarrassed  when  you  first  came,  and  so  could  not 
appear  to  advantage;  and  as  my  brother  thinks  you  are  a  tol 
erably  fair  scholar,  I  have  decided  to  keep  you." 

I  bowed  in  acquiescence,  and  she  continued,  "  There  ia 
something,  however,  which  I  must  first  say  to  you;  but  as  thia 
is  not  the  proper  place,  you  will  go  with  me  to  my  room." 

I  complied  with  her  request,  and  closing  the  door,  she  began 


MEADOW    BROOK. 

with  a  long  preamble  as  to  the  proper  way  for  a  young  .lad/ 
to  conduct  herself  in  the  presence  of  gentlemen^  especially 
those  who  were  every  way  her  superiors.  "For  instance," 
said  she,  "  there's  my  brother  Richard,  who  is  rather  noted 
for  Ms  familiar,  affectionate  manner  toward  the  ladies.  As 
long  as  he  confines  himself  to  his  equals  I  do  not  so  much 
mind  it;  but  when  he  lavishes  his  attentions  upon  my  govern- 
esses,  I  think  it  wrong,  for  he  might,  you  know,  raise  hopes 
which  of  course  could  never  be  realized.  Now,  Miss  Rawson 
was  a  very  silly  girl  who  thought  herself  beautiful,  and  ere  I 
TV  as  aware  of  it  she  was  deeply  in  love  v.ith  Richard.  Of 
course,  he  cared  nothing  for  her,  even  if  he  did  play  with  and 
caress  her.  It  is  his  way,  and  he  means  nothing  by  it.  Then^ 
too,  Miss  Rawson  was  rather  handsome,  and  Richard  has  al 
ways  been  a  passionate  admirer  of  beauty.  He  used  to  say> 
when  he  was  younger,  that  he  never  could  love  a  woman  who 
was  not  beautiful,  and  I've  sometimes  thought  that  the  siglu 
of  a  pretty  face  completely  upset  him.  For  this  reason  I  pre 
fer  having  a  plain-looking  governess.  Miss  Rawson  was  fai 
too  pretty,  and  after  my  trouble  with  her  I  determined  to  em\ 
ploy  none  but  ugly  ones.  This  is  why  I  wrote  to  you  com 
cerning  your  personal  appearance,  which  is,  I  am  sorry  to  say5 
so  much  more  prepossessing  than  I  had  reason  to  suppose. 
Still,  I  did  not  apprehend  any  difficulty,  provided  you  are  aK 
ways  reserved  and  distant  in  Richard's  presence,  and  decline 
any  attentions  he  may  occasionally  offer  you.  Miss  Montrose, 
of  whom  you  have  heard  us  speak,  will  probably  be  home  thife 
summer,  and  then  his  time  will  be  occupied  with  her.  I  do 
not  think  he  will  ever  marry  any  one,  but  if  he  does,  it  will 
undoubtedly  be  Ada.  I  won't  detain  you  longer/'  she  added, 
as  she  saw  me  try  to  suppress  a  yarn — "  I  won't  detain  you 
any  longer  than  to  warn  you  once  more  against  being  as  silly 
as  Miss  Rawson  was — the  foolish  thing — only  think  of  it,  my 
governess  in  love  with  my  brother,  and  he  a  Delafield!" 

It  was  very  absurd,  I  thought;  and  mentally  resolving  not 

•  o  fall  into  a  like  error,  I  repaired  to  the  school-room,  wher3 

Lie  time  I  was  joined  by  the  children,  little  Jessie  bringing 

<i  beautiful  bouquet  which  she  said  "  Uncle  Dick  had 

arranged  for  me." 

Feeling  anxious  to  please  Mrs.  Lansing,  my  first  impulse 
was  to  send  the  flowers  back,  but  upon  second  thoughts,  I 
concluded  that  this  would  not  come  under  the  head  of  "  at 
tentions,"  and  so  all  the  morning  they  stood  in  the  tiny  v 
ii  Halbert  brought  to  hold  them,  all  except  one  roscbur! 
ii  Jessie  selected,  from  the  group  and  twined  among  IT .-j 


MEADOW    BROOK. 

curls.  This  at  the  dinner-table  attracted  the  watchful  ey©  of 
my  employer,  who,  without  any  apparent  motive,  casually  re 
marked  upon  its  beauty,  saying  "  It  looked  like  a  species  of 
rose  which  grew  in  her  brother's  garden,"  and  adding  that 
"  she  did  not  know  as  there  were  any  of  that  kind  on  her 
grounds." 

I  blushed  crimson,  while  Jessie  answered,  "  It  didn't  grow 
here.  Uncle  Dick  brought  it  to  her  with  a  heap  more." 

Casting  upon  me  a  frowning  glance,  Mrs.  Lansing  said, 
"  Seems  to  me  you  have  forgotten  the  conditions  on  which  I 
kept  you." 

This  was  the  first  I  had  heard  of  conditions;  but  so  anxious 
was  I  to  retain  my  situation  that  I  resolved  to  please  her  at 
all  hazards,  and  stammering  out  that  "Jessie  put  it  in  my 
hair,"  I  tore  it  from  amon^  my  curls  and  threw  it  upon  the 
floor.  Then,  as  soon  as  dinner  was  over,  I  went  up  to  the 
school-room,  and  removing  the  bouquet  from  the  vase,  threw 
that,  too>7  from  the  window.  Very  wonderingly,  little  Jessie 
looked  up  in  my  face,  asking  "  why  I  did  it,"  and  if  "I 
didn't  love  flowers." 

"  Very,  very  much,"  I  answered;  "  but  your  mother 
didn't  want  me  to  keep  them." 

That  afternoon  he  came  to  visit  us  "  officially,"  he  said, 
and  when  I  saw  his  winning  manner,  and  how  much  of  sun 
shine  he  brought  with  him,  I  did  not  wonder  that  one  as  sus 
ceptible  as  Miss  Rawson  was  represented  to  be  should  have 
fallen  in  love  with  him.     But  with  me  it  was  different.    /  had 
been  warned  against  his  pleasant,  affectionate  ways,  and  so, 
when  in   conversing  with  me  and  Lina,  he  threw  his  arm 
around  her  waist  and  laid  his  hand  carelessly  upon  my  shoul 
der,  I  moved  quickly  away,  while  I  was  sensible  of  a  deepen 
ing  flush  upon  my  face.     He  seemed  puzzled,  and  for  an  in 
stant  looked  inquiringly  at  me,  as  if  to  ask  a  reason  for  my 
conduct.     He  was  showing  Lina  a  book  of  engravings,  and 
after  awhile  called  me  to  look  at  &  picture  which  he  thought 
was  particularly  fine.     I  complied  with  his  request,  and  wish 
ing  to  see  more,  took  a  seat  at  his  side,  when  either  purposely, 
or  from  force  of  habit,  he  threw  his  arm  across  the  back  <  •• 
my  chair.     The  action  reminded  me  of  Doctor  Clayton,  and 
was  feeling  somewhat  annoyed,  when  looking  up,  I  met 
haughty  eyes  of  Mrs.  Lansing,  who  was  passing  the  door,  ana 
had  stopped  to  look  in.     This  of  course  embarrassed  me,  and 
hardly  knowing  what  I  did,  I  said,  rather  angrily,  "  You  vrill 
oblige  me,  Mr.  Delafield,  by  taking  your  arm  from  my  cr 
•  s  not  look  well," 


MEADOW    BROO&.  163 

Certanny,"  said  he,  instantly  removing  it;  "1  was  not 
before  aware  that  it  was  there;"  and  a  very  peculiar  smile; 
perceptible  about  his  mouth,  as  he,  too,  caught  sight  ci    An 
sister,  who,  with  an  approving  nod  for  me.  passed  on. 

1  could  have  cried  with  vexation,  for  1  feared  he  would 
think  me  very  prudish  and  I  knew  well  enough  that  his 
familiarity  was  only  the  promptings  of  an  unusually  kind  and 
itfectionate  nature.  After  staying  a  few  moments  longer,  he 
arose  to  go,  saying  as  he  turned  toward  me,  "  Jessie  gave  you 
iny  flowers,  I  suppose." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  I  replied,  while  my  face  again  grew  scarlet, 
"  They  were  beautiful,  and  I  thank  you  very  much." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it,"  he  continued,  looking  me  steadily 
in  the  eyes.  "  I  thought,  perhaps,  you  did  not  like  them 
when  I  found  them  on  the  walk  withered  and  dried  by  the 
sun." 

I  was  trying  to  think  what  to  say  by  way  of  apology  for 
thus  treating  his  gift,  when  little  Jessie  came  to  my  relief  by 
saying,  "  She  didn't  like  to  throw  'em  away,  but  ma  didn't 
want  her  to  keep  'em." 

"  Ah,  yes.  I  understand  it  now,"  said  he,  adding  in  an 
undertone,  as  he  shook  rny  hand,  in  accordance  with  the 
Southern  custom  of  bidding  good-bye:  "  I  hope,  Miss  Lee, 
you  will  exercise  your  own  judgment  in  such  trivial  matters  as 
that," 

That  night  I  cried  myself  to  sleep,  half  wishing  I  had  never 
come  to  Cedar  Grove,  for  I  knew  Mrs.  Lansing  would  prove 
an  exacting,  unreasonable  mistress;  and  when  Ada  came 
home,  my  situation,  I  thought,  would  be  anything  but  agree 
able;  while,  worse  than  all  the  rest,  was  the  fear  that  I  had 
displeased  Mr.  Delafield,  and  appeared  very  ridiculous  in  his 
eyes.  Supposing  he  had  put  his  arm  on  my  chair,  was  that 
reason  why  I  should  get  angry  and  speak  to  him  as  I  did? 
.  as  his  way,  and  as  he  had  said,  he  was  not  himself  aware 
(>'  what  he  was  doing.  Of  course,  then,  he  would'  think  me 
very  foolish,  and  would  ever  after  treat  me  with  coolness  and 
indifference.  How  then  was  I  surprised,  when  the  next  morn 
ing,  in  the  presence  of  his  sister,  he  handed  me  a  much  larger 
and  handsomer  bouquet  than  the  one  of  the  preceding  day, 
saying,  as  he  did  so,  "I  want  you  to  keep  this  and  not  throw 
it  away,  as  you  did  my  other  one." 

Mrs.  Lansing's  face,  which  had  been  unusually  placid  and 
serene,  now  looked  cloudy  and  disturbed;  but  she  said  noth 
ing;  neither  did  she  ever  again  make  any  allusion  to  the  flow 
ers  which  so  frequently  came  to  me  from  Sunny  Bank.  Quo 


MEADOW    BROOK. 

reason  for  this  nlight  have  been  that  she  was  otherwise  per* 
foctly  satisfied  with  the  conduct  of  her  brother,  which,  by  the 
way,  was  not  wholly  satisfactory  to  me!  "  It  is  true,  he  was 
very  polite,  very  kind;  but  there  was  about  him  a  reserve 
which  I  could  not  understand,  for  after  that  little  affair  in  the 
school-room,  he  never  treated  me  with  the  same  familiarity 
which  marked  his  deportment  toward  the  other  young  ladies 
who  came  to  the  house.  He  did  not  like  me,  I  said,  and  the 
thought  that  I  was  disagreeable  to  him  made  me  very  un 
happy.  To  be  sure,  he  was  almost  constantly  at  Cedar  Grove, 
where  he  spent  most  of  the  time  in  the  school-room,  "  super 
intending  us,"  he  told  his  sister,  who,  believing  me  rather  in 
efficient,  made  no  objection  to  his  supposed  supervision  of 
Lina's  studies.  He  did  not  often  talk  much  to  me,  but  I  fre 
quently  met  the  earnest  gaze  of  his  piercing  dark  eyes,  par 
ticularly  when  little  Jessie  sat  in  my  lap,  listening  to  my  in 
structions;  and  once  when  Halbert  asked  him  for  "  a  copy  " 
— something  beginning  with  "R,"  he  wrote  '"  Rosa  Lee, 
Meadow  Brook,  Massachusetts."  Still  he  disliked  me — I  was 
sure  of  that;  and  though  I  did  not  then  know  why  it  was,  the 
impression  that  I  was  to  him  an  object  of  aversion  made  me 
unhappy,  and  almost  every  day  I  cried,  while  Mrs.  Lansing 
more  than  once  told  me  that  "  she  did  not  believe  the  South 
agreed  with  me,  for  I  was  not  half  so  plump  and  rosy  as  when 
I  first  came." 

About  this  time,  too,  a  Miss  Dean,  from  the  village,  who 
had  evinced  quite  a  liking-  for  me,  told  me,  confidentially,  that 
Mr.  Delafield  and  Ada  were  certainly  engaged;  adding  that 
"  it  was  sometimes  sickening  to  see  them  together — a  fact  I 
could  not  doubt,  knowing  him  as  I  did,  and  remembering 
Ada's  demeanor  toward  Halbert  when  they  were  engaged. 
From  the  same  source,  too,  I  learned  that  Mr.  Montrose  and 
the  elder  Mr.  Delafield  had  been  warm  friends;  and  that  the  ( 
latter,  who  died  when  both  Mrs.  Lansing  and  Richard  were 
quite  young,  had  committed  them  to  the  care  of  Mr.  Montrose*, 
who  was  to  them  the  kindest  of  fathers  until  the  time  of  his 
death,  which  occurred  a  few  years  after  Mrs.  Lansing's  mar 
riage,  when  Richard  was  just  of  age.  To  Ms  guardianship, 
therefore,  as  to  that  of  a  brother,  had  Mr.  Montrose  left  his 
daughter,  then  a  beautiful  girl  of  seventeen;  and  since  that 
time  she  had  lived  with  Mrs.  Lansing,  who,  though  she  ap 
peared  to  love  the  young  orphan,  still  opposed  her  marriage 
with  her  brother;  not  from  any  aversion  to  Ada,  but  because 
she  did  not  wish  Richard  to  marry  at  all,  as  in  case  he  did 
not,  his  Drot)ertv  would,  in  all  wrobabilitv,  fall  to  her  children, 


MEADOW    BROOK.  T 

fche  being  the  only  heir.  When  I  asked  her  why  Mr.  Delafiei 
was  worth  so  much  more  than  Mrs.  Lansing,  she  replied  tha: 
the  elder  Mr.  Delafield,  in  his  will,  had  left  two  thirds  of  his 
property  to  his  son,  bequeathing  the  other  third  to  his  daugh 
ter,  whose  husband  had  wasted  nearly  the  whole  in  his  ex 
travagant  manner  of  living.  Cedar  Grove,  too,  she  said,  was 
mortgaged  to  Richard  for  more  than  it  was  worth,  and  it  was 
wholly  owing  to  his  forbearance  and  extreme  generosity  thai? 
Mrs.  Lansing  was  enabled  to  support  her  present  style  of  liv 
ing.  This,  she  said,  aside  from  Mrs.  Lansing's  hope  that  her , 
children  would  one  day  inherit  her  brother's  wealth-,  was  ft 
sufficient  reason  why  she  wished  him  to  remain  a  bachelor,  as 
the  presence  of  a  wife  at  Sunny  Bank  would,  in  all  probabil 
ity,  lessen  his  liberality  toward  hersell  Miss  Dean,  who 
seemed  to  be  well  posted,  also  told  me  that,  in  case  Mrs.  Lans 
ing  saw  her  brother  was  determined  to  marry  she  would  of 
course  prefer  that  he  should  marry  Ada,  who  was  quite  a 
favorite,  inasmuch  as  she  had  money  of  her  own,  and  was  con 
nected  with  one  of  the  first  families  in  South  Carolina. 

All  this  I  believed,  and  when  I  saw  how  anxious  Mrs.  Lans 
ing  appeared  for  Ada's  return,  and  how  much  interest  Mr. 
Delafield,  too,  seemed  to  take  in  her,  1  felt  sure  that  matters 
were  at  last  amicably  arranged,  and  that  for  once  rumor  was 
right  in  saying  that  Sunny  Bank  would,  in  the  autumn,  be 
graced  by  the  presence  of  a  mistress.  Latterly,  Mr.  Delafield 
had  been  making  some  repairs,  and  only  a  few  days  before, 
when  I  chanced  to  be  there  with  Jessie,  he  had  taken  me 
through  his  library  into  a  little,  pleasant,  airy  room,  which  he 
was  fitting  up  with  great  elegance. 

"  This,"  said  he,  laughingly,  "  I  design  as  the  boudoir  of 
Mrs.  Delafield,  when  I  shall  be  fortunate  enough  to  boast 
such  an  appendage  to  my  household;  and  as  a  woman's  tastei 
is  supposed  to  be  superior  to  that  of  men,  I  want  your  opin-| 
ion.     How  do  you  like  it?    Do  you  think  it  would  suit  my 
wife — if  I  had  one?" 

Of  course  he  meant  Ada,  and  in  fancy  I  saw  her  reclining 
upon  the  luxurious  lounges,  or  gazing  out  upon  the  vine- 
wreathed  piazza  and  wealth  of  flowers  which  greeted  my 
view  when  I  looked  from  the  large  bay  window.  For  an  in 
stant  I  dared  not  trust  my  voice  to  speak,  and  when  at  last  I 
did  so,  I  am  sure  it  must  have  trembled,  for  he  came  to  my 
side  and  looked  me  earnestly  in  the  face,  while  he  smiled  at 
my  answer. 

'  It  ought  to  suit  her,  unless  •-  er  home  heretofore  has  K. 
Paradise." 


IF'  MEADOW    BKOOft. 

After  that  I  had  not  the  least  doubt  of  his  engagement  with 
Ada  >  and  I  began  seriously  to  think  of  going  back  to  Meadow 
Brook  to  take  charge  of  a  select  school  which  was  about  to 
be  opened  there.  I  had  now  been  in  Georgia  about  four 
months,  and  one  night  I  went  down  to  the  pleasant  summer- 
house  at  the  foot  of  the  garden.  It  was  a  beautif  ul  moonlight 
night,  and  the  air  was  almost  oppressive  with  the  sweet  fra 
prance  of  the  flowers..  Why  I  went  there  I  hardly  know*, 
only  1  fancied  I  could  better  make  up  my  mind  as  to  my  fut 
ure  course,  if  I  were  alone  and  in  the  open  air.  "  Nobody 
likes  me  here,"  I  said  to  myself,  as  I  took  a  seat  within  the 
arbor,  "  nobody  but  Halbert  and  Jessie.  Mrs.  Lansing  is 
freaky  and  cross,  Lina  selfish  and  indifferent,  while  Mr.  Dela- 
field  thinks  only  of  Ada's  return,  which  I  so  much  dread,  and 
to  be  rid  of  meeting  her,  I  will  go  home  before  she  comes." 
So  I  decided  that  on  the  morrow  I  would  make  known  my  de 
termination  to  Mrs.  Lansing,  who,  I  fancied,  would  be  glad, 
while  Mr.  Delafield  would  not  be  affected  either  way.  I  was 
nothing  to  him  —  he  was  nothing  to  me  —  so  I  reasoned,  and 
then  I  made  plans  for  the  future,  just  as  other  maidens  of 
eighteen  have  done,  when  their  hearts  were  aching  with  a  heavy 
pain  whose  cause  they  did  not  understand.  I  should  never 
marry  —  that  was  a  settled  point  —  I  should  teach  school  all  my 
days,  and  by  the  time  I  was  twenty-five  —  it  seemed  a  great 
way  off  then  —  I  should  have  a  school  of  my  own.  "  Lee  Semi 
nary  "  I  would  call  it,  and  I  had  just  completed  the  arrange 
ment  of  the  grounds,  which  somehow  bore  a  strong  resem 
blance  to  those  of  Sunny  Bank,  when  I  was  roused  from  my 
reverie  by  the  sound  of  a  footstep,  and  in  a  moment  Mr.  Dela 
field  stood  at  the  entrance  of  the  summer-house.  He  evident 
ly  did  not  expect  to  find  me  there,  for  he  started  back  at  first, 


then,  hoping  he  did  not  intrude,  came  to  my  side,  saying 
'  *  A  penny  for  your  thoughts,  Miss  Lee,  provided  they  are  not 
as  gloomy  as  your  face  would  indicate." 

"  You  can  have  them  for  nothing,"  I  returned,  elevating 
my  eyebrows,  and  drawing  down  the  corners  of  my  mouth  as 
if  I  felt  that  ia  some  way  he  had  injured  me. 

"  You  are  blue  to-night,  and  have  been  so  for  several  days, 
What  is  the  matter?"  he  asked,  at  the  same  time  throwing 
his  arms  around  my  waist  with  his  olden  familiarity. 

Quickly  remembering  himself,  however,  he  withdrew  it, 
Baying  as  he  did  so,  "  I  beg  your  pardon,  Miss  Lee.  I  am  so 
in  the  habit  of  taking  such  liberties,  that  I  forgot  myself!" 
Rod  he  moved  off  a  little  distance.  I  could  have  cried  with 
for  though  it  might  have  been  improper,  I  was  per* 


MEADOW    BROOK.  173 

fectly  willing  to  sit  there  with  his  arm  around  me!  It  might 
have  dispelled  all  idea  of  the  Lee  Seminary  of  which  I  was  to 
be  principal.  But  he  gave  me  no  such  opportunity,  and  fold 
ing  his  arms,  as  if  to  keep  them  in  their  place,  he  continued, 
"But  tell  me,  Miss  LAe.  what  is  the  matter?  You  do  not 
seem  yourself.'7 

It  was  perfectly  proper  for  me  to  tell  him,  I  thought,  and 
Tery  deliberately  I  unfolded  to  him  my  plan  of  returning  home 
within  a  week,  if  Mrs.  Lansing  were  willing,  which  I  was  sure 
she  would  be,  as  she  had  never  been  quite  satisfied  with  my 
acquirements.  When  I  had  finished  speaking,  I  turned  to 
ward  him,  not  to  see  what  eifect  my  words  had  produced,  for 
I  had  not  the  most  remote  idea  that  he  would  care.  Great 
then  was  my  surprise  when  I  saw  the  blank  expression  of  his 
face,  which  looked  darker  than  ever.  Starting  up,  he  walked 
two  or  three  times  rapidly  across  the  little  arbor,  and  then 
resuming  his  seat,  said  gently,  "  Have  you  been  unhappy  here, 
Miss  Lee?" 

I  could  hardly  repress  my  tears  as  I  told  him  how  much  I 
loved  the  South  land,  and  how  I  should  hate  to  leave  it. 

"  Why  then  do  you  do  so?"  he  asked;  and  I  answered,  "  I 
can  do  more  good  at  home;  nobody  likes  me  here." 

He  came  nearer  to  my  side,  as  he  said,  "  Nobody  likes  you! 
Oh,  Rosa,  there  is  one  at  least  who  more  than  likes — " 

It  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  called  me  Rosa,  and  it 
'shrilled  me  with  an  indefinable  emotion;  but  so  impressed  was 
I  with  the  idea  of  his  engagement  with  Ada,  that  I  never 
dreamed  of  interpreting  his  words  as  I  now  think  he  meant  I 
should;  and  ere  he  could  say  more,  I  interrupted  him  with, 
*'  Yes — little  Jessie  loves  me,  I  know,  and  when  I  think  of 
her,  I  would  fain  stay." 

Still  nearer  to  me  he  came,  as  he  said,  "  And  think  you 
Jessie  is  the  only  one  who  loves  you?" 

If  ever  Mrs.  Lansing's  belief  that  I  was  non  compos  mentis 
was  verified,  it  was  then;  for  with  the  utmost  stupidity  I  an 
swered,  "  Why,  no;  Halbert  likes  me;  but  both  he  and  Jessie 
will  forget  me  when  I  am  gone,  and  learn  to  love  another." 

I  think  he  was  quite  disgusted;  for  with  a  slight  gesture  c£ 
impatience  he  changed  his  manner,  and  in  a  very  business 
like  way  began  to  reason  the  case  with  me,  urging  a  great  many 
reasons  why  I  should  not  leave;  the  most  potent  one  with  me 
being  the  fact  that  he  wanted  me  to  stay — ' '  he  would  miss  me 
very  much,"  he  said,  "  for  he  liked  my  society — it  was  a 
pleasure  to  talk  with  me,  for  he  was  sure  I  meant  what  I  said; 
IS  natural — truthful — so  different  from  most  of  the  young 


174  MEADOW    BKOOR. 

ladies  "--of  course  he  excepted  Ada—"  and  then,  too,  & 
seemed  as  if  he  had  known  me  always,  or  at  least  had  met 
me  before,  for  my  voice  was  familiar." 

I  could  not  tell  him  of  our  meeting  in  Boston,  but  I  saw 
no  harm  in  reminding  him  of  the  night  when  for  a  few  hour& 
I  was  his  traveling  companion,  and  so  to  his  last  remark  J, 
answered,  "We  have  met  before,  in  the  cars  between  Utkr 
and  Albany." 

In  some  surprise  he  looked  earnestly  at  me  a  moment,  and 
then  said,  "is  it  possible?  Why  have  you  never  mentioned 
it  before?" 

"Because,  sir,"  I  replied,  "I  did  not  suppose  you  would 
remember  me." 

He  appeared  thoughtful  for  a  time,  and  then  again,  look 
ing  closely  at  me,  said,  "  I  did  not,  I  believe,  get  a  glimpse  of 
your  features  then,  and  still  it  seems  as  if  I  had  seen  them 
oefore — or  something  like  them.  At  all  events,  I  sometimes 
dream  of  a  childish  face,  which  must  resemble  you  as  you 
were  a  few  years  ago." 

Once  I  half  determined  to  remind  him  of  the  little  girl  who 
fainted  at  the  theater;  but  ere  I  did  so,  he  continued,  "  When 
I  met  you  in  the  cars,  if  I  mistake  not,  you  spoke  of  Miss 
Montrose.  Did  you  ever  see  her?  but  of  course  not,"  he  add 
ed,  ere  I  had  time  to  reply.  I  can  not  tell  why  I  shrunk 
from  acknowledging  my  slight  acquaintance  with  Ada,  but  I 
did,  and  for  a  moment  1  said  nothing;  then  thinking  it  would 
be  wrong  to  give  him  a  false  impression,  I  said,  "  I  can  hard- 
iy  say  that  I  am  acquainted  with  Miss  Montrose;  but  I  have 
met  ner  several  times  at  my  uncle's  in  Boston,  where  I  spent 
the  winter  four  years  ago." 

Again  he  bent  forward  as  if  to  scan  my  face,  while  he  re 
plied,  "  Indeed!  Were  you  in  Boston  then?  It  is  strange 
Ada  never  spoke  of  you,  or  you  of  her  before.  Was  there  a 
misunderstanding  between  you?" 

"Oh,  no,"  "I  answered,  quickly;  "she  was  a  fashionable 
tfoung  lady,  and  I  a  mere  scnool-girl;  so,  of  course,  we  knew 
but  little  of  each  other." 

"  What  was  your  uncle's  nameP*  he  inquired;  and  I  an 
swered  "  Lee,"  noticing  the  while  how  the  shadow  which  had 
settled  upon  his  face  at  the  mention  of  Boston  passed  gradu 
ally  away. 

For  a  moment  he  was  silent,  and  then,  rather  abruptly,  he 
asked,  "  Did  you  like  her?" 

I  remembered  the  time  when  Doctor  Clayton  had  asked  me 
a  similar  question  concerning  Dell  Thompson,  and  now,  a£ 


MEADOW    BROOK.. 

,  i  answered  evasively,  that  "  I  hardly  knew  aer — she  was 
fery  beautiful  and  accomplished." 

Here  he  interrupted  me  by  saying,  "  I  did  not  ask  if  you 
ihought  her  beautiful.  I  asked  if  you  liked  her." 

I  felt  a  little  annoyed,  for  I  thought  he  had  no  right  thus 
co  question  me,  and  forgetting  that  she  was  to  be  his  wife,  I 
replied,  "  No,  sir,  I  did  not  like  her.     Neither  do  I  think  sL  •  I . 
uked  me,  or  my  sister  who  was  with  me;  and  this  is  one  re: 
«on  why  I  wish  to  leave  before  her  return." 

I  supposed  he  would  be  offended  at  hearing  me  speak  thus 
of  her,  but  he  was  not;  he  merely  smiled  as  he  answered, 
4<  Ada  has  many  faults,  I  know,  but  I  do  not  believe  your 
situation  will  be  less  pleasant  on  account  of  her  presence.  If 
ft  is,  just  state  the  case  to  me.  I  am  competent  to  manage 
it,  I  believe;  besides  that,  it  is  uncertain  how  long  she  will 
remain  at  Cedar  Grove." 

He  commenced  plucking  at  the  green  vine-leaves  which 
grew  above  my  head,  while  I  turned  my  face  away  to  hide  my 
emotions;  for  of  course,  when  Ada  left  Cedar  Grove,  it  would 
be  as  his  bride,  I  thought,  and  was  surprised  when  he  con 
tinued,  "The  cousin  with  whom  she  is  traveling  in  Europe 
has  won  from  her  a  half  promise  that  she  will  spend  next  win 
ter  with  her  in  New  Orleans,  and  if  so  she  will  leave  in  Octo- 
oer;  so  you  see  she  can't  annoy  you  long;  and  now  you  must 
promise  me  not  to  leave  us  unless  she  prove  perfectly  disagree 
able." 

There  is  not,  I  believe,  the  least  coquetry  in  my  nature, 
ind  1  replied  frankly  that  I  would  stay. 

"  You  have  made  me  very  happy,  Miss  Lee,"  said  he,  ris 
ing  up  and  laying  his  hand  upon  my  head,  just  as  a  father 
might  caress  his  child,  for  he  was  thirty-one  and  I  was 
eighteen. 

That  night  I  pondered  long  upon  what  he  had  said,  recall-  j 
ing  every  word  and  look,  and  at  last,  when  a  ray  of  light  \ 
faintly  glimmered  upon  my  befogged  intellect,  I  hid  my  face 
in  the  pillow,  lest  the  moonlight,  which  shone  around  me, 
should  read  thereon  the  secret  thought  which  I  scarcely  dared 
to  harbor  for  a  moment.  Could  it  be  possible  that  he  loved 
me,  and  but  that  for  my  unaccountably  stupid  blunder  in 
thrusting  first  Jessie  and  then  Halbert  in  his  face,  he  would 
have  told  me  so.  But  no — it  was  impossible.  He  was  prob 
ably  engaged  to  Ada.  She  was  beautiful  and  rich — /  was 
homely  and  poor.  It  could  not  be.  And  then,  my  reader, 
did  I  first  awake  to  the  consciousness  of  how  much  I  loved 
him,  and  how,  when  he  was  wedded  to  another,  the  work 


?6  MEADOW 

would  be  to  me  naught  but  a  dreary  blank.  Anon,  1 
bered  my  former  affection  for  Doctor  Clayton,  and  then  I 
grew  calm.  I  had  outgrown  that,  I  said,  and  in  all  proba 
bility  I  should  outlive  this,  my  second  heart  trouble.  So, 
falling  back  upon  the  Lee  Seminary  as  something  which  was 
to  comfort  me  in  my  lone  pilgrimage,  I  fell  asleep  and 
dreamed  that  Mr.  Delafield's  children,  amounting  in  all  to  a 
lozen,  were  every  one  in  my  lone  pilgrimage,  I  fell  asleep  and 
dreamed  that  Mr.  DelafielcPs  children,  amounting  in  all  to  a 
dozen,  were  every  one  placed  under  my  special  charge. 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

ADA. 

SHE  was  now  daily  expected,  the  vessel  in  which  she  had 
Bailed  having  landed  at  New  York,  and  numerous  prepara 
tions  in  honor  of  her  arrival  were  in  progress  at  Cedar  Grove, 
where  she  was  evidently  regarded  as  a  person  of  consequence, 
The  best  chamber  in  the  house  was  appropriated  for  her  use; 
Mr.  Delafield  himself  taking  much  interest  in  the  arrange 
ment  of  its  furniture,  and  bringing  over  each  morning  fresh 
bouquets  of  flowers,  which,  in  costly  vases,  adorned  the  apart-, 
ment.     Every  one  seemed  anxious  and  expectant,  save  Jessie, 
and  Halbert,  the  former  of  whom  did  not  wish  her  to  come, 
as  she  took  up  so  much  of  Uncle  Dick's  time,  while  the  latter! 
openly  avowed  his  dislike,  saying  he  wished  she'd  stay  in, 
Europe  always.  >,  „    4 

As  for  myself,  though  there  was  no  particular  reason  why 
I  should  do  so,  I  dreaded  her  arrival,  and  when  at  last  word 
came  to  the  school-room  that  she  was  in  the  parlor,  and  the 
children  must  come  down  to  see  her,  I  stole  out  into  the  gar- 
flen,  in  order  that  I  might  put  off  the  interview  with  her  as 
/long  as  possible.  I  knew  I  must  meet  her  at  the  supper- 
table,  ^nd  so  after  a  time  I  went  up  to  my  room  to  dress,  don 
ning  a  plain  white  muslin,  which  I  had  often  been  told  be 
came  me  better  than  aught  else  I  could  wear.  Before  my 
toilet  was  finished,  little  Jessie  came  in  and  insisted  upon  twin 
ing  among  my  curls  a  few  simple  buds,  which,  she  said,  looked 
"  mighty  nice,"  adding,  as  she  stepped  back  a  pace  or  two -to 
witness  the  effect,  "  I  think  you  are  a  heap  prettier  than  Ada; 
but  Uncle  Dick  don't,  'cause  I  asked -him,  and  he  said,  '  Of 
course  Ada  was  the  handsomest.'  Hal  says  how  he's  her 
beau,  and  I  reckon  he  is,  for  he  kissed  her  like  fury." 

"  He  kisses  everybody,  doesn't  he?"  I  asked;  and  she  ££ 
plied: 


MEADOW    BKOOK.  * 

'''  Mighty  nigh  everybody  but  you.  I  never  seen  him  k '•••••* 
:  and  when  I  asked  him  why,  he  said  you  wouldn^t  let  him 
'—  won't  you?" 

"  It  wouldn't  be  proper/'  I  said,  smiling  down  upon  the 
'ttle  fairy,  who,  poised  on  one  foot,  was  whirling  in  circles, 
nd  then  looking  up  into  my  face  with  her  soft,  dreamy  eyes. 

At  that  moment  the  supper-bell  rang,  and  bounding  away, 
she  left  me  alone.  For  full  five  minutes  I  waited  trying  to 
summon  sufficient  courage  to  go  down,  and  at  last  chiding 
myself  for  my  weakness,  I  started  for  the  dining-room.  Mj 
footsteps  were  light,  as  they  evidently  were  not  aware  of  m; 
approach,  for  they  were  talking  of  me,  and  as  I  reached  th  ; 
door,  I  heard  Jessie,  who  was  giving  Ada  a  description  of  her 
teacher,  say3  "  Why,  she's  the  properest  person  in  the  world, 
for  she  won't  even  let  Uncle  Dick  kiss  her." 

"  Somewhat  different  from  Miss  Rawson,"  said  Ada,  join 
ing  in  the  general  laugh;  and  at  the  same  time  lifting  her 
large,  languid  eyes,  she  saw  me,  and  started  slightly,  I  fan 
cied,  as  she  recognized  me. 

She  had  changed  since  I  saw  her  last,  and  her  face  now 
wore  a  weary,  jaded  look,  while  the  dark  circle  beneath  her 
eyelids  told  of  late  hours  and  heated  rooms. 

"  Miss  Lee — Miss  Montrose,"  said  Mrs.  Lansing,  and  the 
proud  Ada  bowed  haughtily  to  the  humble  governess  who, 
with  heightened  color,  took  her  accustomed  seat  at  the  table. 

"  You  have  seen  each  other  before,  I  believe,"  said  Mr. 
Delafield,  looking  curiously  at  both  of  us,  while  Mrs.  Laii' 
sing,  in  much  surprise,  exclaimed,  "  Seen  each  other!  Where, 
pray?" 

I  waited  for  Ada  to  answer,  and  after  staring  at  me  a  mo 
ment,  ,she  replied,  quite  indifferently,  "  Miss  Lee's  face  does 
seem 'familiar,  and  if  I  mistake  not,  I  met  her  once  or  twice 
.n  Boston  " — and  this  was  all  she  said,  if  I  except  a  glance, 
•lalf  entreating,  half  threatening,  which  she  threw  at  me  from 
oeneath  her  long,  drooping  eyelashes.  This  glance  I  did  not 
shen  understand,  hut  \  now  know  it  to  have  been  prompted 
byea  dread  lest  I  should  tell  of  her  engagement  with  Herbert 
Langley,  and  thus  betray  her  to  Mr.  Delafield,  to  whom,  it 
seems,  she  had  positively  denied  the  whole,  solemnly  assuring 
him  that  there  had  never  been  between  them  anything  more 
serious  than  a  mere  friendly  acquaintance.  When,  therefore, 
she  saw  me,  her  fears  were  awakened,  and  knowing  that  I  had 
her  secret  in  my  possession,  she  looked  upon  me  with  suspi 
cion  and  dislike,  while  I,  wholly  unconscious  of  her  feelings, 
had  not  the  least  intention  of  ever  speaking  of  the  past, 


178  MEADOW    BROOK. 

circumstances  should  render  it  necessary.  But  of  this  she  wax 
not  aware,  and  that  night,  in  the  privacy  of  her  room,  she 
communed  with  herself  as  to  the  best  means  of  counteracting 
anything  which  I  might  say  concerning  her  conduct  in  Boston, 
deciding  at  last  that  the  surest  way  of  accomplishing  her  ob 
ject  was  to  brand  me  as  a  person  whose  word  could  not  be 
trusted.  And  this  she  deemed  an  easy  task,  inasmuch  as  no 
one  there  had  ever  seen  or  heard  of  me  before.  Strange,  too, 
as  it  may  ssern,  there  was  mingled  with  her  distrust  of  me  a 
slight  shade  of  jealousy  lest  Mr.  Delafield  should  in  any  way 
notice  me.  True,  I  was  a  poor  obscure  girl,  earning  my  daily 
bread,  and  on  no  point  could  I  compete  with  her  save  one, 
and  that  was  age,  I  being,  as  she  well  knew,  eight  or  nine 
years  her  junior.  To  be  old  and  unmarried  was  with  her  al 
most  a  crime,  and  as  year  after  year  passed  on,  leaving  her 
still  Ada  Montrose,  her  horror  of  single  blessedness  increased, 
while  at  the  same  time  she  seemed  to  look  upon  those  much 
younger  than  herselt  as  almost  her  enemies,  especially  if  they 
came  between  her  and  Mr.  Delafield,  who,  as  the  world  goes, 
was  at  the  age  of  thirty-one  more  likely  to  choose  a  girl  of 
eighteen  than  one  of  twenty-seven.  This,  then,  was  my  fault. 
I  was  young,  and  had  also  in  my  possession  a  secret  which  she 
did  not  wish  to  have  divulged,  for  well  she  knew  that  one  as 
upright  and  honorable  as  Mr.  Delafield  would  despise  a  wom 
an  who  could  stoop  to  a  falsehood  as  she  had  done. 

"  No,  it  shall  not  be!"  said  she,  as  she  sat  alone  in  her 
room  with  her  face  resting  upon  her  hands;  "  it  shall  not  be. 
I  will  thwart  her,  and  she  shall  never  triumph  over  me,  as  did 
her  pale-faced  sister,  but  for  whom  I  might  now  have  borne 
the  title  of  Mrs.  instead  of  trembling  lest  some  one  should  ask 
how  old  I  am!'7  And  the  proud  belle  felt  a  pang  of  envy  to 
ward  my  poor  widowed  sister  whose  heart  was  buried  in  the 
grave  of  her  unfortunate  husband. 

Not  that  she — Ada — had  ever  cared  particularly  for  Her 
bert  Langley;  but  women  of  the  world  sometimes  bestow  their 
hand  where  the  heart  can  not  be  given,  and  thus  might  she 
have  done  had  not  circumstances  prevented,  for  she  had  then 
no  hope  of  ever  winning  her  guardian. 

Here,  ere  we  proceed  further,  it  may  be  well  to  relate 
briefly  her  past  history,  going  back  to  the  time  when  on  his 
death-bed  her  father  had  not  only  given  her  to  the  charge  of 
Mr.  Delafield,  but  had  also  made  a  request  that,  it  it  were 
consistent  with  his  feelings,  Richard  would  one  day  make  her 
his  wife.  As  we  have  said  elsewhere,  Mr.  Delafield  was  3 
great  admirer  of  beauty,  and  wken  he  looked  upon  the  ex- 


MEADOW    BKOOK. 

eeedingly  lovely  face  of  the  youthful  Ada,  and  thought  of  her 
as  a  lonely  orphan,  his  heart  was ,  touched,  and  he  found  no 
difficulty  in  promising  to  protect  her,  and  also  to  make  her 
his  wife,  if,  upon  a  more  intimate  acquaintance,  he  found  her 
all  he  could  wish  her  to  be.  That  he  did  not  find  her  thus 
was  proved  by  the  fact  that  nearly  ten  years  had  elapsed  since 
her  father's  death/ and  she  was  Ada  Montrose  still,  while  he, 
as  he  grew  older,  seemed  less  likely  to  find  any  one  who  fully 
came  up  to  his  standard  of  excellence,  beauty,  in  reality,  now 
eing  of  minor  importance,  notwithstanding  his  sister's  asser- 
ion  that  he  would  never  marry  one  who  had  not  a  pretty  face. 
Upon  this  point,  however,  Ada  had  some  doubts;  for  if 
beauty  were  what  he  desired,  she  still  possessed  it  to  an  un 
common  degree,  and  it  did  not  seem  to  move  him  in  the 
least.  Rumor  indeed  said  they  were  on  the  eve  of  marriage, 
but  she  knew  better,  for  never  yet  had  he  really  told  her  in 
earnest  that  he  loved  her.  It  is  true  that  years  before,  when 
she  first  came  a  weeping  orphan  to  Cedar  Grove,  he  had  de 
voted  himself  to  her  entirely,  feeljng,  perhaps,  a  little  proud 
of  his  ward,  to  whom  he  sometimes  talked  of  love,  or  hinted 
vaguely  at  the  time  when  she  would  be  his  bride,  as  they  wan 
dered  together  beneath  the  whispering  pines,  which  grew 
around  his  home,  and  once,  when  she  was  in  Boston,  he  had 
actually  made  up  his  mind  to  offer  himself  immediately  and 
take  hereto  Sunny  Bank  as  its  mistress.  To  this  resolution  he 
was  urged  by  her  cousin,  a  strong-minded  woman,  who,  in 
visiting  at  Cedar  Grove,  had  labored  to  impress  upon  him  the 
sense  of  the  duty  he  owed  not  only  to  her  father  but  to  Ada 
herself,  who  was  represented  as  loving  him  devotedly,  and 
who  was  said  to  have  made  a  vow  never  to  marry  unless  it 
were  her  guardian.  Very  artfully,  too,  did  Mrs.  Johnson  in 
sinuate  that  her  illness  of  which  she  had  heard,  had  its  origin 
in  "  hope  deferred  which  maketh  the  heart  sick," 

The  knowledge  that  a  beautiful  girl  loves  you — nay,  is 
dying  for  you,  is  sufficient,  I  suppose,  to-  touch  the  feelings  of 
men  less  susceptible  to  female  charms  than  Richard  I)elafielcij, 
and  acting  upon  the  impulse  of  the  moment,  he  started  oil' 
'  without,  however,  leaving  any  word  as  to  his  destination. 
Arrived  in  Boston,  he  went  to  the  Revere  House,  where,  as  we 
'know,  he  casually  heard  of  Ada's  engagement  with  Herbert 
Langley.  To  say  he  was  not  disappointed  would  hardly  be 
just,  for  his  self -pride  was  touched  in  knowing  that  Ada  had 
given  her  affections  to  another,  and  that  other  not  a  very  wor 
thy  object,  if  the  word  of  his  gossiping  informer  was  to  bo 
Ousted.  Too  much  displeased  even  to  see  her,  he  Lid  -eft  tha 


18G  HEADOW  BROOK. 


city  imme3iel$&  declaring  that  he  would  never  again  think 
of  manage  with  any  one. 

As  the  reader  will  remember,  Ada  heard  of  him  through 
one  of  her  acquaintances,  and  from  something  her  cousin  had 
written,  she  half  guessed  the  nature  of  her  visit.  Accordingly 
on  her  return  to  Georgia  she  several  times  in  his  presence 
laughingly  referred  to  the  gossiping  story,  which,  she  said, 
some  of  the  Bostonians  got  up  concerning  her  and  a  million 
aire,  positively  denying  it,  and  wishing  people  would  let  her 
alone  But  all  this  was  to  no  purpose.  Mr.  Delafield's  im 
pulse  had  subsided,  and  though  his  manner  toward  her  we  l 
always  kind,  affectionate,  and  brotherly,  he  never  spoke  to 
her  of  love  or  marriage,  except  sometimes  to  ask  her  teasingiy 
"  if  they  were  not  both  of  them  almost  old  enough  to  get 
married." 

Still  she  did  not  despair,  for  of  his  own  accord  he  had  ac 
companied  her  and  her  cousin  to  Europe,  whither  he  had  al 
ways  intended  to  go,  and  though  he  had  left  them  some 
months  before,  Mrs.  Johnson  was  willing  to  leave  Paris,  where 
Ada's  beauty  attracted  much  attention  from  the  polite  French 
men;  she  would  not  believe  he  was  at  all  weary  of  her,  but, 
rather,  as  he  had  said,  that  his  business  required  his  imme 
diate  return  to  America. 

Latterly  Mrs.  Lansing  had  in  a  measure  espoused  her  cause, 
und  knowing,  as  she  did,  of  the  recent  repairs  at  Sunny  Bank, 
said  by  Richard  to  be  for  the  benefit  of  his  bride,  she  began 
again  to  entertain  sanguine  hopes  of  eventually  becoming  Mrs. 
Delafield,  provided  the  governess  did  not,  by  her  foolish  tat 
tling,  mar  her  prospects. 

Such,,  then,  was  the  state  of  affairs  when  I  was  the  burden 
of  Ada's  thoughts,  as  she  sat  alone  in  her  room  on  the  first 
night  after  her  return  home.  For  a  time  she  mused  with  her 
face  in  her  hands,  then  lifting  up  her  head  and  throwing  back 
•/•"he  silken  tresses,  which  fell  over  her  brow,  she  gazed  long 
and  earnestly  at  herself  in  the  opposite  mirror. 

"  Yes,  I  am  fading,"  she  said  at  last,  "  and  each  year  my 
chance  for  winning  him  grows  less,  and  if  this  Lee  girl  should 
tell,  it  would  take  from  me  every  shadow  of  hope  —  but  i< 
shall  not  be.  I  can  prevent  her  foolish  tattling  from  doing 
me  harm,  and  I  will." 

Then  the  better  nature  of  Ada  Montrose  wnispered  to  her 
of  the  great  wrong  she  was  meditating  against  a  poor,  defense-* 
<ess  girl,  who  as  yet  had  never  injured  her,  and  for  a  moment 
«he  wavered. 


MEAbov     UROOK.  l&l 

only  knew  she  would  never  tell,"  said  she;  "  but  she 
,  accidentally  if  not  intentionally.  Low-bred  people  like 
her  are  always  bold,  and  as  she  becomes  better  acquainted  with 
me,  she  may  possibly  say  something  to  me  about  Herbert  in 
the  presence  of  Mr.  Delafieid,  who  will  question  her,  perhaps, 
and  thus  learn  the  whole.  So  I;i:  be  prepared.  She's  noth 
ing  but  a  poor  goveness,  and  tny  word  will  be  preferred  ic 
hers,  provided  I  first  give  her  the  character  of  deceiver." 

On  awaking  next  morning  her  resolution  was  partially 
shaken,  and  might,  perhaps,  have  been  given  up  entirely,  if 
in  looking  from  her  window,  she  had  not  seen  a  sight  which 
awoke  within  her  the  demon  jealousy,  by  whose  aid  she  could 
do  almost  anything.  The  governess  had  arisen  early,  as  was 
her  usual  custom,  and  gone  forth  into  the  garden,  where  she 
came  unexpectedly  upon  Mr.  Delafieid,  who,  after  expressing 
liis  pleasure  at  meeting  her,  very  quietly  drew  her  arm  within 
his  own,  and  then  walked  with  her  several  times  through  the 
garden,  casting  often  admiring  glances  toward  the  drooping 
figure  at  his  side,  who,  trembling  lest  the  Argus  eyes  of  Mrs. 
Lansing  were  upon  her,  \vould  fain  have  been  left  alone.  All 
this  Ada  saw,  and  as  she  thought  how  different  was  his  man 
ner  toward  Rosa  from  what  it  had  ever  been  toward  her,  a 
sudden  light  flashed  upon  her.  She  had  not  lived  twenty- 
seven  years  for  nothing,  and  like  Dickens'  woman  with  the 
"  mortified  bonnet,"  she  knew  the  signs,  and  with  a  sinking 
heart,  she  exclaimed,  "  Is  it  possible  that  he  loves  her?" 

The  thought  was  maddening,  and  now  strengthened  tenfold 
in  her  purpose  of  working  the  young  girl  evil,  she  went  forth 
into  the  garden  to  meet  them,  nodding  coldly  to  Rosa,  and 
bestowing  her  sweetest  smile  upon  her  guardian,  who  wound 
his  arm  round  her  waist  and  playfully  kissed  her  forehead — a 
liberty  he  would  not  dare  to  have  taken  with  Rosa,  who,  think 
ing  that  of  course  she  was  not  wanted,  made  an  effort  to  with- 
4raw  her  arm.  But  Mr.  Delafieid' s  arm  was  strong,  and  he 
pressed  it  closely  to  his  side,  at  the  same  time  giving  her  a 
look  which  bid  her  stay,  notwithstanding  that  Ada  two  or 
three  times  hinted  to  her  the  propriety  of  going. 

"  Why  don't  you  ask  Miss  Lee  about  your  Boston  friends?* 
said  Mr."  Delafieid,  when  they  had  taken  a  few  turns  in  silence. 

Ada  tossed  her  head  scornfully,  and  replied,,"  I  don't  think 
I  had  any  acquaintances  in  common  with  Miss  Lee;  unless, 
indeed,  it  were  her  old  aunty;"  and  with  a  little  hateful  laugh 
she  leaned  across  Mr.  Delafieid,  and  asked,  "  How  is  she? 
Richard,  you  would  like  to  know." 

I  was  provoked  at  her_  manner^  but  I  answered  civilly  i;  , 


MEADOW    BHOOk. 

my  aunt  was  well,  adding,  as  one  would  naturally  ao,  "  Her 
bert  Langley,  I  suppose  you  know,  is  dead." 

The  news  was  unexpected,  and  coming  as  it  did,  it  produced 
apon  her  a  singular  effect,  blanching  her  cheek  to  a  marble 
whiteness,  while  her  lips  quivered  spasmodically.  Mr.  Dela 
field  was  startled,  and  stopping  short,  demanded  of  her  wha* 
was  the  matter. 

"  Oh,  nothing  much,"  she  answered,  recovering  her-  com 
•posure,  and  pressing  her  hand  upon  her  side,  "  nothing  bn . 
in  ugly  pain,  which  is  gone  now.     I  have  felt  it  often  lately;'; 
.^nd  her  face  looked  as  unruffled  and  innocent  as  if  she  really 
thought  it  was  the  truth  she  had  uttered. 

/  knew  she  told  a  falsehood,  but  Mr.  Delafield  did  not,  and 
leading  her  to  the  summer-house,  which  was  near,  bid  her  sit 
down,  while  he  made,  minute  inquiries  concerning  the  pain, 
asking  how  long  since  she  first  felt  it,  and  saying  he  would 
speak  to  Doctor  Matson  the  first  time  he  came  to  Cedai 
Grove,  adding  that  a  blister,  he  presumed,  would  help  it. 

"  Oh,  mercy!"  she  exclaimed,  again  growing  pale.  "  You 
make  too  serious  a  matter  of  it." 

But  he  did  not  think  so.  He  was  very  tender  of  her,  as  a 
brother  would  be  of  his  orphaned  sister;  and  knowing  that 
her  mother  had  died  of  consumption,  he  watched  narrowly  for 
the  first  indications  of  that  disease  in  her.  Just  then  little 
Jessie  came  bounding  down  the  walk,  saying  that  "  breakfast 
was  ready,"  and  leading  her  by  the  hand,  I  returned  to  the 
house,  followed  by  Mr.  Delafield  and  Ada,  the  latter  of  whom 
made  some  remark  concerning  my  gait,  which  she  pronounced 
ki  wholly  Yankee  and  countrified/5 

"  And  graceful,"  rejoined  Mr.  Delafield;  at  the  same  time 
telling  her  he  did  not  like  to  hear  one  female  speak  disparag 
ingly  of  another. 

Ada  bit  her  lip  with  vexation,  and  when  she  took  her  seat 
it  the  table,  she  was  evidently  not  in  the  best  of  humors.  At 
Mrs,  Lansing's  invitation  her  brother  remained  to  breakfast, 
ind  I  could  not  perceive  that  he  was  any  more  polite  to  the 
beautiful  lady  in  elegant  French  muslin  on  his  right  than  he 
was  to  t*?:3  plain-looking  girl  in  a  shilling  calico  on  his  left. 
Indeed,  if  there  was  a  difference,  it  was  in  favor  of  the  latter, 
with  whom  he  conversed  the  most,  addressing  her  as  if  she 
had  at  least  common  sense,  while  toward  Ada  he  always  as 
sumed  the  trifling,  bantering  manner  which  he  seemed  to 
think  was  suited  to  her  capacity. 

Breakfast  being  over,  I  started  for  my  room,  accidentally 
dropping  upon  the  stairs  a  handkerchief  which  had  been  gi?e& 


MEADOW    BROOK.  18d 

£ie  1/y  Anna,  and  which  had  her  name,  "  Anna  Lee,"  marked 
in  the  corner.  In  honor  of  Ada's  return,  there  was  no  school 
that  day,  and  as  the  morning  advanced  and  the  heat  in  my 
chamber  grew  oppressive,  I  went  with  my  book  to  the  sitting- 
roon^  and  took  a  seat  by  an  open  window,  where  I  soon  be 
came  so  absorbed  in  reading  as  not  to  observe  Mrs.  Lansing 
and  Ada,  who  came  out  upon  the  piazza  and  sat  down  quite 
..iear  me,  but  still  in  sucli  a  position  that  neither  of  us  couU 
see  the  other.  After  a  time  they  were  joined  by  Mr.  Dela- 
field,  and  then  for  a  moment  I  thought  of  stealing  quietly 
away,  but  thinking  my  remaining  there  could  do  no  harm,  I 
resumed  my  book  and  forgot  my  neighbors  entirely,  until  my 
attention  was  roused  by  the  sound  of  my  own  name. 

It  was  Mrs.  Lansing  who  spoke,  and  she  asked,  "  What 
kind  of  folks  ^re  those  relatives  of  Miss  Lee?" 

"  Oh,  aboufc  so  so,"  answered  Ada,  and  Mrs.  Lansing  con 
tinued,  "  And  she  was  then  at  school?"  I  believe. 

"  At  school!"  repeated  Ada,  apparently  in  surprise. 
"  Mercy,  no!  Why,  she  was  a  grown-up  woman,  as  much  as 
twenty-two  or  twenty-three  years  old." 

"There,  I  thought  so," "answered  Mrs.  Lansing,  who,  the 
reader  will  remember,  had,  at  my  first  introduction,  taken 
me  to  be  twenty-five.  "  I  thought  she  must  be  more  than 
eighteen,  didn't  you,  Richard?" 

"  Eighteen!"  repeated  Ada.  "  It  isn't  possible  she  calls  her 
self  eighteen.  .She  dare  not  do  it  in  my  presence.  Why,  she 
had  been  a  teacher,  I  don't  know  how  long,  and,  besides  that, 
'twas  said  that  she  had  once  been  engaged  to  a  Doctor  Clay 
ton,  who  for  some  reason  jilted  her,  and  was  then  a  married 
man  as  much  as  thirty  years  old.  Eighteen,  indeed!  I'd 
like  to  hear  her  say  so." 

I  was  confounded,  but  supposing  she  had  mistaken  me  for 
Anna,  my  first  impulse  was  to  go  out  and  tell  her  so,  but  fear-  / 
ing  lest  she  should  think  I  had  intentionally  listened,  my  sec 
ond  thought  was  to  go  away  where  I  could  hear  nothing  fur 
ther,  and  then,  when  Mrs.  Lansing  questioned  me,  as  I  felt 
sure  she  would,  I  fancied  it  would  be  an  easy  matter  to  exon 
erate  myself  from  the  falsehood  Acla  had  put  upon  me.  I 
had  reached  the  hall,  and  was  half-way  up  the  stairs,  when  Mr. 
Delafield,  who  had  arisen  and  was  walking  back  and  forth  on 
the  piazza,  espied  me,  and  called  me  back. 

There  was  a  troubled  look  on  his  face,  and  fixing  his  pierc 
ing  black  eyes  upon  me  as  if  he  would  read  my  inmost 
thoughts,  he  said  with  something  of  bitterness  in  the  tones  of 
bis  voice,  "  I  did  think  I  had  found  one  female  who,  on  all 


184  MEADOW    BROO&. 

occasions,  spoke  the  truth;  but  if  what  Acia  has  said  is  true*  1 
am  mistaken;  though  why  you  " — and  his  hand  mvoluntarily 
clutched  my  arm — "or  any  other  woman  should  stoop  to  a 
falsehood,  or  seek  to  deny  her  age,  be  she  a  hundred  or  less, 
is  a  secret  which  Heaven  knows,  perhaps,  but  I  do  not." 

I  felt  my  face  flush  with  indignation,  and  turning  toward 
Ada,  who,  not  having  expected  a  scene  like  this,  was  very 
pale,  I  said,  * "  It  is  not  necessary,  Miss  Montrose,  for  you  to 
repeat  what  you  have  asserted  concerning  me,  for  I  accident 
ally  overheard  it,  and  I  thank  Mr.  Delafield  for  giving  me  an 
opportunity  to  exonerate  myself  from  the  charge  you  are 
pleased  to  bring  against  me." 

"  Been  listening/'  muttered  Mrs.  Lansing. 

"  Silence,  Angeline.  Go  on,  Rosa,"  interrupted  Mr.  Dela 
field,  in  a  voice  which  we  both  obeyed,  she  resuming  her  nee 
dle-work,  while  I  continued:  "I  had  taken  my  seat  by  the 
window  ere  you  and  Miss  Montrose  came  out'  here,  and  not 
thinking  it  necessary  to  leave,  I  remained,  without,  however, 
hearing  a  word  of  your  conversation  until  I  caught  the  sound 
of  my  name.  Then,  indeed,  my  senses  were  sharpened,  and 
I  heard  Miss  Montrose 's  statements,  which  I  am  sure  she 
would  never  have  made  were  she  not  laboring  under  a  mis 
take." 

Here  Ada,  who  was  not  in  the  least  prepared  for  the  occa 
sion,  began  to  stammer  out  something  about  "  letting  the 
matter  drop — she  did  not  wish  to  harm  me,  and  had  said  what 
she  did  inadvertently,  without  ever  dreaming  of  making 
trouble.  She  didn't  see  why  Richard  wished  to  make  it  such 
a  serious  matter,  for  she  was  sure  she  didn't  care  whether  I 
were  forty  or  eighteen." 

"  But  /  care,"  he  said,  grasping  my  arm  still  tighter,  "  I 
care  to  have  justice  done.  I  had  supposed  Miss  Lee  to  be 
frank,  ingenuous,  and  truthful;  and  if  what  you  assert  i& 
crue,  she  is  the  reverse,  and  should  suffer  accordingly,  while 
on  the  contrary,  if  she  be  innocent,  she  shall  have  an  oppor 
tunity  of  proving  herself  so." 

By  this  time  Ada  had  collected  her  scattered  senses,  and 
resolving  to  brave  the  storm  she  had  raised,  replied,  '"'  Cer 
tainly  Miss  Lee  has  a  right  to  clear  herself  if  she  can,  and 
prove  that  she  is  really  Rosa  instead  of  Anna  Lee." 

"  Rosa  instead  of  Anna!  What  do  you  mean?"  thundered 
Mr.  Delafield,  while  /  was  too  much  astonished  to  speak. 

Ada  was  not  very  deep,  and  in  all  her  plotting  she  had  never 
thought  how  easy  it  would  be  for  me  to  prove  the  falsity  of 
jjer  assertion  by  vrritin^Jiomei  so  with  the  utmost  coolness 


MEADOW    BROOK.  185 

she  replied,  "  I  mean  this:  there  were  two  Lee  girls  living  at 
the  house  of  their  uncle  where  I  occasionally  visited;  one  was 
Anna,  a  young  lady  of  twenty-two  or  twenty-three;  the  other 
was  Rosa,  a  school-girl  of  fourteen  or  fifteen.  The  oldest  of 
these  two  I  have  every  reason  to  believe  stands  before  us — at 
least  tliAS,  which  I  found  upon  the  stairs,  would  indicate  as 
nuch,"  and  she  held  to  view  the  handkerchief  which  I  had 
iropped  and  had  not  missed. 

Glancing  at  the  name,  Mrs.  Lansing  said,  "  I  have  observed 
a  similar  mark  upon  several  of  her  garments,  and  rather  won 
dered  at  it." 

This  was  true,  for  Anna  had  dealt  generously  with  me,  giv 
ing  me  many  of  her  clothes,  some  of  which  bore  her  full  name;, 
while  others  had  merely  the  initials.  I  was  about  to  tell  of 
this,  when  Mr.  Delafield  prevented  me  by  asking  if  I  could 
prove  that  I  was  what  'I  represented  myself  to  be,  and  that  I 
was  a  mere  school-girl  when  I  saw  Miss  Montrose  in  Boston. 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  can,"  I  answered,  firmly;  "  by  writing  home 
I  can  prove  it,  if  in  no  other  way.  But  Miss  Montrose  knows 
better  than  to  confound  me  with  Anna,  whom  she  surely  has 
reason  for  remembering." 

Fearful  lest  her  darling  secret  was  about  to  be  divulged, 
Ada  roused  up,  and  in  a  tone  of  angry  defiance,  answered, 
"  Yes,  I  have  reason  for  remembering  you,  for  you  did  me 
good  service  by  taking  of?  my  hands  a  worthless,  drunken  fel 
low,  about  whom  the  Bostonians  were  annoying  me.  I  thank 
you  for  it,  Miss  Lee,  and  only  wonder  how  you  could  suppose 
I  would  forget  you.  I  recognized  you  the  moment  we  met  at 
the  table,  but  I  did  not  then  dream  of  your  calling  yourself 
eighteen  when  you  are  certainly  twenty-six." 

I  was  confounded  and  remained  speechless,  while  with  re 
newed  strength  my  accuser  continued,  "  Perhaps'  you  will 
deny  having  been  a  teacher  at  that  time,  when,  according  to 
5rour  statement,  you  were  only  fourteen." 

"No,"-  I  answered,  "I"  do  not  deny  that;  I  had  taught, 
but  I  was  only  thirteen  when  I  did  so,  as  any  one  at  home  will 
testify." 

"  Thirteen!  how  improbable!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Lansing, 
while  Ada  continued,  "  And  what  of  your  engagement  with 
Doctor  Clayton?  I  heard  it  from  the  lips  of  your  aunt;  but 
perhaps  she  told  me  a  falsehood!"  and  she  looked  maliciously 
at  me,  while  with  a  stamp  of  his  foot  Mr.  .Delafield  said  stern 
ly,  "  Ada,  you  have  no  right  to  question  her  about  that." 

"  But  I  am  glad  she  did,"  I  said,  "  for  as  I  l/'ve,  I  have 
merer  been  engaged  to  any  man," 


136  MEADOW    BROOK. 

/ 

"  Nor  in  love  with  one  either?    Will  you  say  you 
never  in  love  with  Doctor  Clayton?"  persisted  Ada. 

It  was  a  cruel  question,  but  I  could  not  deny  it,  and  I  re 
mained  silent,  while  I  cowered  beneath  the  burning  gaze  of 
Mr  Delafield,  who  still  held  me  fast,  but  who  now  loosened 
his  hold,  and  slightly  pushing  me  from  him,  leaned  against 
the  pillar  with  folded  arms  -and  dark,  lowering  brow,  while 
Mrs.  Lansing  and  Ada  exchanged  glances  of  triumph.  They 
had  by  my  silence  gained  a  partial  advantage  over  me,  but  as 
long  as  I  felt  the  clasp  of  Mr.  Delafield's  hand,  I  was  strong 
o  defy  them.  Now,  however,  that  had  failed  me,  and  girl» 
'ike  I "began  to.  cry,  telling  them  "  they  could  easily  test  the 
whole  matter  by  writing  either  to  Boston  or  Meadow  Brook." 

This  alternative  had  not  occurred  to  Ada  before;  but  now 
she  readily  saw  how  easily  I  could  pro  ye  my  innocence,  and  as 
she  met  Mr,  Delafield's  inquiring  glance,  she  turned  very  pale 
and  laid  her  hand  upon  her  side  aa  if  the  pain  had  returned. 

"Rosa,"  said  Mr.  Delafield,  "you  would  hardly  wish  for 
me  to  write  to  Meadow  Brook  were  you  guilty,  and  as  you 
seem  willing  that  we  should  do  so,  I  am  inclined  to  hope  that 
Ada  may  be  mistaken.  Come,  stand  by  me  '" — and  reaching 
out  his  hand  he  drew  me  to  his  side — "  and  tell  me  all  the 
particulars  of  your  acquaintance  with  Miss  Montrose,  and  also 
about  that  sister  with  whom  you  are  confounded,  and  you  " — 
turning  to  the  other  ladies — "  are  not  to  speak  until  she  ia 
through,  when  Ada  can  make  any  correction  or  explanation 
necessary." 

It  was  an  act  of  justice  which  I  owed  to  myself,  I  knew, 
and  wiping  my  tfyes,  I  was  about  to  commence,  when  Ada, 
rising  up,  said,  mockingly,  "  With  the  honorable  judged  per 
mission  I  will  leave,  as  1  do  not  wish  to  hear  the  falsehoods 
which  I  am  sure  will  be  uttered." 

Again  Mr.  Delafield's  long  arm  was  extended,  and  catching 
Ada,  as  she  was  passing,  he  drew  her  to  his  side,  where  he 
held  her  firmly,  saying,  "  It  looks  suspicious,  Ada,  that  you 
are  not  willing  to  hear  Miss  Lee's  defense.  You  have,  either 
by  mistake  or  design — the  former,  I  hope — preferred  against 
her  serious  charges,  and  you  must  listen  to  ner  explanation 
Commence,"  he  added,  looking  down  upon  me;  and  in  a  firm, 
unfaltering  manner  I  told  both  my  story  and  that  of  Anna,, 
who,  I  said,  had  eloped  with  Herbert  Langley  and  was  now  a 
broken-hearted  widow,  living  with  his  mother  in  Boston, 

At  this  part  of  my  narrative  Ada's  hand  was  pressed  co?> 
vulsively  on  her  side,  while  with  parted  lips  and  pale  cheeks 
i!lio  leaned  forward,  looking  at  me  anxiouslv;  but  when  sha 


MEADOW    BROOK.  8 

saw  tiiat  I  did  not  speak  of  her  ever  having  been  engaged  to 
Herbert,  the  color  came  back  to  her  face,  and  with  a  sigh  oi: 
relief  she  listened  more  composedly,  nodding  assent  when  I  re 
ferred  her  to  our  meeting  at  the  depot  at  Caiiandaigua,  and 
faintly  admitting  that  "  she  might  have  been  mistaken;  I 
looked  so  much  like  Anna  that  'twas  not  impossible." 

This  I  knew  was  false,  but  I  did  not  contradict  her,  and 
proceeded  with  my  story,  until  suddenly  recollecting  the  inci 
dent  at  the  theater,  I  turned  to  Mr.  Delafield  and  asked  "  if 
he  remembered  it?" 

He  thought  a  moment,  and  then  the  arm,  which  had  gradu- 
ciiy  been  winding  itself  about  my  waist,  clasped  me  to  his  side, 
while  he  exclaimed,  "  Remember  it?  Perfectly;  and  you  are 
that  little  girl.  They  called  you  Rosa;  and  this  is  why  your 
face  has  puzzled  me  so  much.  I  see  it  all  now.  You  are  in 
nocent,  thank  Heaven!"  and  the  hand,  which,  heretofore, 
had  held  Ada  fast,  now  rested  caressingly  upon  my  head  and 
parted  back  my  curls,  as  he  said,  more  to  himself  than  to  me, 
*'  and  you  have  remembered  me  all  this  time."  Then,  turning 
toward  Ada,  he  said,  sternly,  "  W*  will  hear  }rou  now." 

Ada  was  caught  in  her  own.  snare.  She  had  thought  to 
prevent  me  from  doing  her  injury  by  branding  me  as  a  liar, 
and  now  that  I  was  proved  innocent  it  filled  her  with  confu 
sion,  and  she  remained  silent  until  Mrs.  Lansing  came  to  her 
aid  by  saying,  "  I  do  not  think  Ada  meant  to  do  wrong;  she 
probably  mistook  Rosa  for  her  sister,  hence  the  blunder." 

This  gave  Ada  courage,  and  crossing  over  to  me,  she  took 
my  hand,  begging  my  forgiveness  and  saying  "  she  had  been 
mistaken — she  certainly  did  not  mean  to  do  me  so  great  a 
wrong,  and  she  hoped  I  would  forget  it  and  try  to  look  upon 
her  as  my  friend,  for  such  she  would  henceforth  be." 

I  was  not  quite  verdant  enough  to  credit  all  that  Ada  said: 
but  I  replied  I  was  willing  to  forgive  her,  and  when  she  asked 
permission  to  kiss  me,  so  that  the  reconciliation  might  be  per 
fect,  I  offered  no  resistance,  though  1  did  not  return  the  com 
pliment,  for  which,  I  think,  Mr.  Delafield  felt  gratified — at 
least  I  read  as  much  in  his  face.  During  the  progress  of  my 
story  Ada  had  alternately  turned  red  and  white,  particularly 
at  the  points  where  I  touched  upon  Herbert.  This  did  not 
escape  the  observation  of  Mr.  Delafield,  and  suspecting  more 
than  Ada  thought  he  did,  he  half  seriously,  half  playfully 
asked  her  "  why  she  had  evinced  so  much  feeling  whenever 
Mr.  Langley's  name  was  mentioned." 

Instantly  the  color  left  her  face,  which  wore  a  livid  hue, 
,-nJ  her  hand  went  up  to  her  side  as  if  the  cause  of  her  agita<» 


138  MEADOW    BROOK. 

bion  were  there,  while  with  a  half-stoned  moan,  she  said, "  Oh! 

oh!  the  pain!" 

Of  course  Mrs.  Lansing  asked  what  she  meant,  and  Ada*  in 
answering  her,  managed  to  dwell  so  long  upon  "  the  horrid 
pain,  which  she  feared  would  become  chronic,"  that  Mr.  Dela- 
field  could  not  reasonably  expect  an  answer  to  his  question, 
Still,  I  think  he  was  not  satisfied,  and  when  I  saw  the  mis 
chievous  look  m  his  eye,  as  he  told  her-"  she  must  certainly 
be  blistered,"  I  fancied  that  he,  too,  understood  her  as  I  did. 

That  afternoon  we  were  again  assembled  upon  the  piazza — 
LMrs.  Lansing,  Ada,  and  myself — the  former  nodding  in  he: 
large  willow  chair,  while  the  latter  sat  upon  a  little  stool  at 
my  feet,  and  with  her  elbow  upon  my  lap  was  looking  up  into 
my  face  with  the  childish  simplicity  she  knew  so  well  how  to 
ussume.  She  was  just  asking  me  to  assure  her  again  of  my 
forgiveness,  when  Mr.  Delafield  joined  us,  and  coming  up  be 
hind  me,  leaned  over  my  chair,  while  he  handed  to  Ada  a  lit 
tle  oblong  package,  saying,  "  I  was  in  the  village  just  after  din 
ner,  and  seeing  the  doctor,  I  asked  him  about  your  pain.  As 
I  expected,  he  prescribed  a  blister,  and  at  my  request  he  pre 
pared  one,  which  you  are  to  apply  at  night  when  you  go  to 
bed." 

I  could  not  see  him,  but  I  absolutely  pitied  poor  Ada,  who 
began  to  realize  that  the  way  of  the  transgressor  is  hard. 
The  tears  started  to  her  eyes,  while  with  a  look  of  dismay,  she 
exclaimed,  "  Oh,  Richard,  how  could  you?  I  never  was  blis 
tered  in  my  life.  It  will  kill  me.  I  can't  do  it,"  and  she 
cried  aloud. 

Very  gently  Mr.  Delafield  soothed  her,  telling  her  that  so 
far  from  "  killing  her,"  it  would  certainly  "  cure  her,"  he 
knew  it  would,  and  he  insisted  upon  her  trying  it.  At  last, 
as  an  idea,  perfectly  natural,  under  the  circumstances,  dawned 
upon  her  mind,  she  looked  up  very  submissively  at  him  and 
aaid,  "  To  please  you,  I'll  try  it;  though  the  remedy,  I  think, 
is  worse  than  the  disease." 

I' hardly  know  whether  he  had  any  faith  in  her  words— 
/  certainly  had  not,  and  when  next  morning  she  came  down 
to  breakfast  in  a  loose  wrapper,  with  a  very  languid  look,  I 
could  not  bring  myself  to  ask  her  concerning  the  blister,  which 
the  livelong  night  had  drawn  nicely — on  the  back  of  the  fire- 
board  in  her  room.  As  I  expected,  Mr.  Delafield  soon  made 
his  appearance,  and  after  inquiring  how  his  prescription 
v/orked,  and  if  it  had  pained  her  much,  he  said,  looking  to- 
iVf-,rd  neither  of  us,  "  How  would  you  like  to  ride  on  horse* 


MEADOW    JBKOOR.  i§ 

back  with  me  out  to  Mr.  Parker's  plantation?  I  have  busi 
ness  there,  and  do  not  wish  to  go  alone." 

"Oh,  charming!"  exclaimed  Ada,  j nipping  up  and  clap- 
png  her  hands  in  a  manner  but  little  suited  to  a  blistered  side 5 

that  will  be  grand,  and  I  can  wear  ray  new  riding-dress, 
•vhich  fits  so  nicely." 

"  Why,  Ada,  what  do  you  mean?"  said  Mr.  Delafield,  with 
great  gravity.  "  My  invitation  was  intended  for  Mi-ss  Lee. 
You  can't,  of  course,  think  of  riding  on  horseback  with  a 
blister.  You  must  have  forgotten  it;"  and  hk  keep  eyes  rest 
ed  upon  her  face  with  a  deeper  meaning  than  she  could 
fathom. 

She  turned  very  red,  and  for  an  instant,  I  think,  half  re 
solved  to  acknowledge  the  deception  she  waa  practicing.  But 
Richard  Delafield  was  one  who  despised  a  falsehood^  and  she 
dared  not  confess  to  him  her  error,  so  she  turned  away,  say 
ing  with  a  feigned  indifference  which  illy  accorded  with  the 
expression  of  her  face,  "  Surely,  I  forgot  a/,1  about  it." 

Alone  in  her  room,  however,  she  shed  tears  of  anger  and 
mortification  as  she  saw  us  ride  off  together,  and  thought  of 
the  happiness  from  which  she  was  debarred  by  a  fancied  blis 
ter,  which  had  never  come  in  contact  with  ner  flesh.  But 
whether  it  drew  upon  her  side  or  the  fire-board,  it  in  a  measure 
wrought  the  desired  cure^  for  seldom  again  did  Ada  attempt 
to  deceive  her  guardian.  \Yould  it  not  be  well  if  more  of  our 
modern  young  ladies  should  be  blistered  for  the  same  disease 
that  afflicted  Ada  Montrose. 


It  was  nearly  dark  when  we  returned^  an<?  Mrs.  Lansing  and 
Ada  were  in  their  accustomed  places  upon  >,he  piazza,  the  lat- 
'ter  holding  an  open  letter  which  she  had  that  afternoon  re- 
reived  from  her  cousin,  Mrs.  Johnson,  who  vvas  spending  some 
time  in  Mobile,  and  who  wished  Ada  to  jom  her  there  before 
going  on  to  New  Orleans,  They  were  evidently  discussing 
the  matter,  and  when  we  came  up,  Ada  handed  the  letter  to 
Mr.  Delafield,  bidding  him  read  it  and  tell  her  what  to  do. 
Hastily  running  it  over,  he  said,  "  Go,  by  all  means;  you 
have  never  seen  Mobile,  and  it  will  be  a  good  opportunity." 

"  But  I  have  been  thinking  of  giving  up  my  visit  to  New 
Orleans,"  she  continued  in  a  kind  of  beseeching  tone.  "  Mrs 
Lansing  had  rather  I'd  remain  with  her  this  winter." 

It  was  not  so  dark  as  to  prevent  me  from  seeing  the  expws 
sion  of  Mr.  Delafield' s  face,  and  I  fancied  the  proposition  did 
not  altogether  please  him*  fc&e  evidently  thought  so  too,  for 


190  MEADOW    BROOK. 

rather  pettishly  she  added,  "  but  if  you  wish  to  be  im  &i 
'if  course  Til  go." 

"  Ada!  How  foolish!"  he  said,  sternly.  "  I've  ofteD 
rjeard  you  express  a  desire  to  spend  a  winter  in  New  Orleans, 
*tid  now  that  an  opportunity  is  presented,  I  think  you  had 
•better  accept  it.  I  shall  be  there  a  part  of  the  time,  perhaps 
ail,"  he  added;  and  then  I  turned  away  lest  my  face  should) 
betray  what  was  passing  within. 

"  And  will  you  go  with  me  to  Mobile?"  Ada  asked  of 
as  a  child  would  ask  her  father. 

"  Certainly,"  he  answered;  "  I  do  not  propose  letting 
go  alone.     But  how  is  that  side?    I'd  almost  forgotten  to 
ask." 

"  It  has  pained  me  a  good  deal,"  said  he,  "  but  Martha 
dressed  it  nicely  this  afternoon,  and  it  feels  much  better.  I'm 
so  glad  you  made  me  apply  it,  now  the  worst  is  over,  for  I  be 
lieved  it  will  do  me  good!" 

She  spoke  with  every  appearance  of  candor,  and  much  as  it 
surprised  him,  Mr.  Delafield  was,  I  thought,  partially  if  not 
wholly  convinced  that  what  she  said  was  true,  and  that  he  had 
suspected  her  of  more  than  she  deserved ;  for  his  manner  to 
ward  her  changed,  and  as  if  trying  to  make  amends,  he  devot 
ed  himself  to  her  entirely  for  the  remainder  of  the  evening, 
telling  her  where  they  would  go  when  they  were  in  New  Or 
leans,  and  laying  many  plans  for  her  pleasure .  Once  in  his 
seal  he  thoughtlessly  threw  his  arm  around  her  waist,  but  she 
instantly  shrunk  back,  saying,  "  don't — don't — you  hurt!" 

This  convinced  him  thoroughly,  and  I  slept  and  woke  twice 
that  night  ere  the  sound  of  their  voices  ceased  upon  the  piazza, 
where  their  long  interview  was  kept  in  countenance  by  Mrs. 
Lansing,  who  sat  up  until  he  left,  and  then  patting  Ada's 
cheek,  told  her  she  thought  "  her  prospects  were  Tightening." 

I  thought  so,  too,  and  there  was  a  shadow  on  my  heart, 
when  I  saw  how  much  they  were  together  during  the  few 
weeks  which  elapsed  before  her  departure  for  Mobile.  It  is 
true  he  was  still  kind  to  me  as  of  old;  and  whenever  he  found 
that  Ada,  by  word  or  look,  had  slighted  me,  he  always  man 
aged  to  let  her  know  how  much  he  disapproved  her  conduct, 
so  that  in  his  presence  she  was  usually  polite,  though  she  could 
not  quite  conceal  the  fact  that  I  was  to  her  an  object  of  dis 
like. 

It  was  nearly  the  middle  of  October,  when  Ada  finally  left 
us  for  Mobile,  accompanied  by  Mr.  Delafield,  who,  in  bidding 
us  good-bye,  said  we  need  not  be  surprised,  if  he  did  not  ra- 


MEADOW    BKOOK,  191 

in  severs!  weeks.  I  consider  it  to  be  my  misfortune  that 
my  face  generally  betrays  all  I  feel,  and  with  his  physiognomic 
powers  he  could  not  fail  to  see  the  effect  which  his  words  pro 
duced  upon  me,  for  well  I  knew  how  lonely  Cedar  Grove 
would  be  without  him;  and  when  after  he  was  gone,  little 
•Jessie  climbed  into  my  lap,  and  laying  her  head  upon  my 
shoulder  wished  "  Uncle  Dick  never  would  go  away,"  I  men 
tally  responded  to  the  wish.  The  whole  household  seemed 
more  or  less  affected.  Mrs.  Lansing  was  cross,  Lina  careless, 
Halbert  fretful,  and  Jessie  unhappy,  while  I  began  to  be 
{ aunted  with  my  old  project  of  returning  home;  and  I  should, 
uerhaps,  have  proposed  it  to  Mrs.  Lansing,  had  it  not  been 
that,  at  the  close  of  the  fifth  day,  we  were  greatly  surprised 
at  Mr.  Delafield's  unexpected  return.  He  didn't  like  Mobile, 
he  aaid,  and  would  much  rather  be  at  home. 

Numerous  were  the  questions  asked  by  Mrs.  Lansing  con 
cerning  Ada  and  the  pain  in  her  side,  which  last,  Mr.  Dcla- 
field  said,  had  left  her  entirely,  owing,  he  believed,  to  the 
timely  application  of  the  blister.  He  was  deceived,  I  thought, 
and  I  must  confess  to  a  slight  feeling  of  gratification  at  an 
occurrence  which  thoroughly  convinced  him  of  his  mistake. 
One  night,  a  few  days  after  his  return,  old  Hagar,  his  head 
cook,  came  over  to  Cedar  Grove,  groaning  with  rheumatism, 
which  she  termed  "  a  misery  in  her  back."  Lina,  to  whom 
her  complaints  were  made,  listened  awhile,  and  then  opening 
an  old  paper-box  which  stood  under  the  table,  drew  forth  a 
plaster,  which  she  said  she  "had  done  found  in  Miss  Ada's 
room,  on  t'other  side  the  fire-board,  oncet  when  she  was  clarin' 
the  fire-place." 

As  Ada  was  gone  she  thought  there  was  no  harm  in  appro 
priating  it  to  herself,  which  she  accordingly  did,  laying  it 
carefully  away  until  it  should  be  needed.  The  recital  of 
Hagar7 s  aches  and  pains  reminded  her  of  it,  so  she  urged  it 
upon  the  old  negress,  assuring  her  it  must  be  good,  or  white 
folks  would  never  use  it.  With  many  thanks  Hagar  hobbled 
home,  applied  her  plaster,  and  went  to  bed.  But,  alas!  for 
the  expected  relief,  which  came  only  in  burning  sensations  and 
stinging  pains,  eliciting  many  a  groan  from  the  poor  old  lady, 
vho  heroically  bore  it  until  morning,  when  she  found  herself 
unable  to  perform  her  accustomed  duties. 

'For  a  long  time  Mr.  Delafield  waited  for.  his  breakfast, 
which  was  at  last  served  up  by  Hagar 's  daughter,  who  gave 
such  a  deplorable  account  of  her  mother's  condition  that  the 
moment  breakfast  was  over  he  went  himself  to  the  cabinj 
he  found  the  old  lady  moaning  over  her  blistered  backj 


'•  >  MEADOW    BROOK. 

which  she  saif\  "  was  a  heap  harder  to  hear  than  the  iher 
matiqs." 

A  few  words  explained  the  whole,  for  Hagar  never  con 
cealed  aught  from  her  master,  and  so  she  gave  the  history  of 
her  plaster,  which  now  lay  upon  the  hearth  in  the  ashes,  where 
she  had  thrown  it.  Quick  as  thought  the  truth  burst  upon 
Mr.  Uelafield,  who  laughed  so  long  and  loud  that  Aunt  Hagar, 
thinking  that  he  was  making  light  of  her  misfortunes,  began 
to  cry,  saying  she  "  never  thought  Mars'r  Richard  would  poke 
mn  at  her  misery." 

"  Neither  am  I  making  fun  of  you,"  said  he,  adding  fur 
'-her,  by  way  of  atoning  for  his  error,  that  for  the  remainder 
of  the  week  she  should  be  freed  from  all  household  service^ 
and  devote  her  whole  time,  if  she  liked,  to  her  aching  back. 

This  had  the  effect  of  restoring  Aunt  Hagar  to  good  humor, 
and  in  the  midst  of  her  thanks,  Mr.  Delafield  returned  slowly 
to  the  house,  thinking  that  when  a  habit  of  deception  is  once 
firmly  fixed,  it  required  more  to  cure  it  than  a  blister  applied 
to  the  fire-board. 


CHAPTER  XXIIL 

DOCTOR    CLAYTON. 

RAPIDLY^  and  to  me  very  happily,  did  the  winter  pass  away, 
for  it  was  enlivened  by  the  presence  of  Mr,  Delafield,  who  was 
with  us  so  often,  that  it  became  at  last  a  serious  debate  among 
the  blacks  as  to  whether  Cedar  Grove  or  Sunny  Bank  were 
really  his  home.  More  than  once,  too,  was  it  whispered  in 
the  village,  that  little  Rosa  Lee,  plain  and  unassuming  as  she 
was,  had  stirred  in  the  heart  of  the  "  stern  old  bachelor  "  a 
far  deeper  feeling  than  Ada  Montrose  had  ever  been  capable 
of  awakening.  And  sometimes  she,  foolish  child  that  she 
was,  thought  so  too,  not  for  anything  he  said,  neither  from 
anything  which  he  did;  indeed,  it  would  have  been  hard  for 
her  to  tell  why  her  heart  sometimes  beat  so  fast  when  he  was 
near,  for  though  his  manner  was  always  kind  and  considerate, 
he  never  spoke  to  her  of  love — never  appeared  as  he  had  once 
done  in  the  summer-house,  when  she  gave  him  such  silly  an 
swers. 

And  still,  occasionally,  Rosa  dared  to  hope  that  her  love 
was  returned,  else  why  did  each  day  find  him  at  her  side, 
where  he  lingered  so  long,  saying  to  her  but  little,  but  watch 
ing  her  movements,  and  listening  to  her  words,  as  he  would 
not  have  done  had  she  been  to  him  an  object  of  indifference, 
Not  naturally  quick  to  read  human  nature,  Mrs,  Lansing  was 


MEADOW    BROOK.  19c 

wholly  deceived  by  her  brother's  cold  exterior,  and  neve: 
dreaming  how  in  secret  he  worshiped  the  humble  girl  she 
called  her  governess,  she  left  them  much  together.  Why 
then  did  he  never  speak  to  her  of  the  passion  which  had  be 
come  a  part  of  his  being?  Simply  because  he  too  was  de° 
ceived.  Once,  indeed,  he  had  essayed  to  tell  her  of  his  love, 
nd  dreading  lest  his  affection  should  not  be  returned,  he  was 
the  more  ready  to  construe  her  evasive  replies  into  a  belief 
that  it  was  indeed  as  he  feared.  Then,  too,  her  shy,  reserved 
manner,  while  it  made  him  prize  her  all  the  more,  disheart= 
ened  him;  for  not  thus  was  he  accustomed  to  being  treated, 
and  with  that  jealousy  which  seems  to  be  the  twin  sister  of 
love,  he  ofttimes  thought  he  read  aversion  and  distrust,  when 
there  was,  on  Rosa's  part,  naught  save  a  fear  lest  he  should 
discover  her  secret,  and  despise  her  for  it.  Added  to  this  was 
the  remembrance  of  what  Ada  had  said  concerning  her  former 
engagement  with  Doctor  Clayton.  True,  Rosa  had  denied 
the  engagement,  but  when  charged  with  having  loved  him  she 
had  remained  silent,  thus  proving  the  story  correct.  And  if 
she  loved  him  when  a  child,  was  it  not  probable  that  she  loved 
him  still,  married  man  though  he  was.  He  had  heard  of  such 
things,  or,  at  least,  he  had  read  of  them  in  books,  and  for 
many  days  Mr.  Delafield's  brow  was  literally  tied  up  in  knots, 
while  he  tried  to  solve  the  question  as  to  "  whether,  having 
loved  once  and  been  deceived,  Rosa  Lee  could  love  again.'* 

At  last  he  decided  that  possibly  she  could,  and  his  mind 
was  fully  made  up  to  talk  with  her  upon  the  subject,  when 
an  unexpected  arrival  blasted  his  hopes  at  once,  and  darkened 
the  glimmering  sunlight  which  was  dawning  upon  his  hori 
zon.  It  was  a  dark  rainy  night,  toward  the  last  of  April  that 
1  sat  with  the  family  in  the  pleasant  little  sitting-room.  As 
usual,  Mr.  Delafield  was  with  us,  and  this  evening  he  was 
reading  aloud  from  Longfellow's  wonderful  poem.  He  was 
just  in  the  midst  of  Hiawatha's  wooing,  and  I  fancied  there 
was  in  the  tones  of  his  voice  a  softer  cadence  as  he  read: 

"  Hand  in  hand  they  went  together, 
Through  the  woodland  and  the  meadow, 
Left  the  old  man  standing  lonely 
At  the  door- way  of  his  wigwam, 
Heard  the  falls  of  Minnehaha 
Calling  to  them  from  the  distance, 
Crying  to  them  from  afar  off, 
Fare  thee  well,  oh,  Laughing  Water." 

Scarcely  had  the  last  words  left  his  lips  when  a  heavy  tread 
upon  the  piazza  and  a  loud  ringing  of  the  bell  startled  us,  for 


MEADOW    BfcOOfc. 

ft  was  not  often  that  we  were  favored  with  visitors  on  such  & 
iiight  as  ' '  ils.  Zillah,  the  colored  girl,  hastened  to  the  door 
where  she  found  a  stranger,  who,  stepping  into  the  hall,  asked 
"  if  Miss  Rosa  Lee  lived  there."' 

Starting  from  my  chair,  I  turned  very  white,  for  I  recog- 
nized  the  voice  of  Doctor  Clayton,  who  the  next  moment, 
stood  before  me.  I  forgot  the  past — forgot  that  he  had  been 
tny  lover,  forgot  that  Richard  Delafield's  eyes  were  upon  me^ 
xorgot  everything  except  that  he  had  come  from  dear  New 
England,  had  breathed  the  air  of  my  native  hills,  had  heard 
the  sound  of  my  mother's  voice,  and  had  brought  me  undoubt 
edly  tidings  of  that  mother's  welfare.  Springing  forward 
with  a  cry  of  joy,  I  took  his  extended  hand,  nor  shrunk  away 
When,  with  unwonted  tenderness,  he  stooped  to  kiss  my  lips, 
whispering  low  as  he  did  so,  "  Dear  Rosa." 

Then,  indeed,  I  blushed,  for  I  knew  he  had  no  right  to  call 
ne  thus;  but  the  next  moment  it  was  forgotten,  and  with 
.something  of  pride  in  my  manner,  I  presented  him  to  Mrs. 
Lansing  and  Mr.  Delafield,  the  latter  of  whom  greeted  him 
rather  coldly,  and  after  a  few  words  of  common  courtesy,  bid 
us  good-night,  but  not  until  he  had  learned  what  until  that 
moment  was  news  to  me,  viz.,  that  Dell  Clayton  had  been 
dead  nearly  six  months.  As  he  passed  jne  on  his  way  out,  he 
said  BO  low  that  no  one  else  could  hear  him, 

"  Fare  thee  well,  oh,  Laughing  Water,"  referring  to  the  line 
he  had  last  read.  There  was  a  deep  scowl  upon  his  dark  face, 
and  as  I  gazed  upon  him,  I  could  not  help  wondering  if  it 
were  thus  the  old  man  looked  when  from  his  lonely  wigwam 
door  he  watched  the  departing  footsteps  of  his  daughter. 

"  Come  again  to-morrow,  Uncle  Dick,"  said  little  Jessie, 
following  him  into  the  hall;  but  he  made  her  no  answer  save 
his  accustomed  good-bye  kiss,  and  I  soon  heard  his  heavy  tread, 
fts  he  strode  down  the  winding  walk  and  out  into  the  open 
field,  muttering  to  himself,  as  I  afterward  learned: 

"  And  she  will  follow  where  he  leads  her, 
Leaving  all  things  for  the  stranger." 

$es,  Mr.  Delafield  was  jealous,  terribly  jealous  of  Doctor 
Clayton,  the  nature  of  whose  business  he  readily  divined, 
though  I  did  not,  and  nothing  was  further  from  my  mind 
than  die  thought  that  he  intended  honoring  me  with  a  chance 
of  becoming  Mrs.  Clayton  second.  And  yet  it  was  this  alone 
which  had  brought  him  to  Georgia,  he  taking  the  precaution 
to  send  on  in  advance  a  letter,  in  which  he  had  made  known 
Mis  wishes,  and  asked  for  a  return  of  the  affection  which,  for 


MEADOW    BKOO&.  t!8 

five  long  years,  he  said,  had  never  known  on?  moment  oi 
abatement,  even  though  another  had  slept  upon  his  bosom  as  - 
his  wife.  But  she  was  gone,  and  in  her  place,  he  would  see 
blooming,  he  said,  the  Eosa  he  had  loved  so  long.  Owing  to 
some  detention  this  letter  had  failed  to  reach  me,  hence  I  was 
wholly  unprepared  for  the  scene  which  followed  when  at  last 
we  were  left  alone.  Well  skilled  in  the  signs,  Mrs.  Lansing  / 
had  purposely  retired  not  long  after  her  "Brother's  departure, ' 
while  I,  suspecting  nothing,  made  mo  objection,  when  Doctor 
Clayton  took  his  seat  upon  the  sofa  at  my  side.  I  was  talk- 
ing"to  him  of  Anna,  and  from  speaking  of  her  and  poor  Her 
bert's  death,  it  was  an  easy  transition  to  Dell,  of  whom  he 
spoke  kindly,  nay,  even  affectionately,  as  he  told  me  of  her 
last  days:  how  much  she  suffered,  and  how  gentle  she  became, 
never  chiding  him  in  the  least  for  a  thing  unskillfully  done, 
but  seeming  satisfied  with  everything,  and  loving  him  at  last 
with  a  love  which,  had  it  been  earlier  born,  would  have  shed 
happiness  over  his  comparatively  cheerless  life.  Then  he  told 
me  of  the  little  child,  not  yet  three  years  old,  whom  he  had 
called  "  Rosa  Lee,"  and  gently  pushing  back  my  curls,  and 
gazing  down  into  my  face,  he " said,  "ft  is  a  fancy  of  mine, 
perhaps,  but  I  love  to  think  she  looks  like  you,  who  should 
have  been  her  mother." 

With  all  my  stupidity,  I  understood  him  then,  and  blushing 
crimson,  I  moved  away  to  the  end  of  the  sofa,  while  he  con 
tinued,  "  What  did  you  think  of  my  letter?  You  received  it, 
I  suppose?" 

I  had  received  no  letter,  and  so  I  said;  whereupon  he  pro 
ceeded  to  tell  me  its  contents,  a  part  of  which  the  reader  al« 
ready  knows.     Utterly  confounded  and  powerless  to  move,  I 
sat  motionless,  while,  with  his  arm  round  me,  he  went  over 
vrith  the  past,  recalling  to  my  mind,  with  a  vividness  which  i 
made  it  seem  real  again,  the  time  when  first  he  had  found  me  ' 
weeping  in  the  somber  old  school-rccm,  away  to  the  north 
ward;  the  night  when,  with  the  soft  moonbeams  falling  around 
as,  we  sat  together  beneath  the  tall  oak-tree,  while  I  laid  be-  . 
fore  him  my  childish  griefs;  and,  lastly,  the  many  pleasant 
hours  we  had  whiled  away  together,  listening  to  the  sound  of 
the  running  brook,  which  ran  past  the  twining  grape-vine, 
whose  broad  leaves  had  rustled  above  our  heads. 

"  On  these  occasions,  Rosa,"  said  he,  "  did  nothing  ever 
tell  you  how  much  you  were  beloved?" 

"  Yes,"  I  answered,  bitterly,  my  woman's  nature  rousing 
up  as  I  remembered  the  times  to  which  he  referred.  "  Yes. 
and  what  did  it  avail  me,  even  though  I  was  beloved?  Ambi- 


IfEADOW    BROOft. 

tion  proved  the  stronger  attraction  of  the  two,  and  you  « 
ied  another.     You,  who,  now  that  other  has  gone,  would  talk 
again  to  me  of  love;  but  Rosa  Lee  is  no  longer  a  child  to  be 
deceived,  and  you  mistake  her  strangely  if  you  fancy  you  can 
cast  her  off  and  take  her  up  again, at  will." 

Here,  overcome  with  emotion,  I  burst  into  tears.  My 
words  and  manner  misled  him,  for  in  them  he  saw  only  resent 
ment  for  his  former  treatment;  and  this  inspired  him  with, 
hope  that  the  feeling  I  once  cherished  for  him  could  again  be 
nourished  into  life.  Very  tenderly,  then,  he  talked  to  me, 
and,  as  I  listened,  a  numbness  crept  over  my  heart,  for  I 
knew  he  was  in  earnest  now,  and  I  felt  that  it  was  not  the 
Doctor  Clayton  of  old— the  fickle,  selfish  man  of  the  world — 
with  whom  I  had  to  deal,  but  Doctor  Clayton  purified,  and 
made  better  by  the  trials  through  which  he  had  passed — a 
noble,  true-hearted,  and  upright  man — who  now  laid  at  my 
feet  the  love  which  I  knew  had  always  been  mine.  Very  ear 
nestly  he  implored  forgiveness  for  the  wrong  he  once  had  done 
me,  saying  that  for  it  he  had  been  terribly  punished,  inasmuch 
as  he  had  suffered  far  more  than  I.  And  still  he  breathed  no 
word  of  censure  against  his  erring  wife,  who,  he  said,  was  per 
haps  more  sinned  against  than  sinning,  and  who,  when  the 
last  great  agony  was  upon  her,  had  whispered  in  his  ear,  as 
her  white,  clammy  hand  rested  on  the  flowing  curls  of  little 
Rose,  "  Her  mother,  I  know  will  be  she  whose  name  she 
bears,  and  I  am  willing  it  should  be  so.  And  was  she  not 
right?"  he  continued,  drawing  me  closer  to  his  side.  "  Will 
you  not  be  the  angel  of  my  home,  the  mother  of  my  child?" 

And  then  again  he  told  me .  how  much  I  had  been  loved ; 
how  he  had  striven  in  vain  to  cast  me  from  his  heart,  when  it 
was  madness  and  sin  to  keep  me  there;  and  how,  when  his 
^orizon  had  been  darkest  with  want  and  care,  there  was  still 
in  the  distance  a  ray  of  sunlight,  the  remembrance  of  me, 
which  had  kept  his  soul  from  fainting.  And  now  that  it  wag 
right  for  him  to  speak  to  me  of  love,  would  I  not  listen  and 
give  him  an  opportunity  to  atone  for  the  wrong  he  had  once 
done  me?  He  paused  for  my  reply.  There  was  silence  in 
the  room,  and  I  counted  each  pulse  of  my  beating  heart  as  it 
throbbed  with  the  intensity  of  my  excitement. 

"  Will  not  my  darling  answer  me?"  he  said,  and  I  felt  his 
breath  upon  my  cheek,  his  lips  upon  my  brow. 

Not  thus  could  I  sit  and  tell  him  what  duty  bid  me  say, 
So  I  moved  away,  and  standing  up  before  him,  I  said,  slowly 
and  distinctly,  "  Doctor  Clayton,  I  loved  you  once,  but  the 


MEADOW    BROOK. 

v;me  has  gone  by,  the  love  Has  died  out,  and  I  would  not 

awaken  it  if  I  conld." 

There  was  a  firmness  in  my  manner,  a  decision  in  th©  tones 
of  my  voice,  which  startled  him  more  than  what  I  said,  and 
with  a  faint  cry  he  too  arose,  and  coming  to  my  side,  said, 
"  God  forgive  you,  Rosa,  for  the  cruel  words  you  have  uttered; 
but  you  can  not  be  in  earnest." 

And  then,  with  the  fire-light  flickering  over  his  pale  face, 
he  pleaded  with  me  "to  think  again,  to  revoke  what  I  had 
said,  and  not  to  send  him  away  utterly  hopeless  and  wretched. 
The  love  I  had  felt  for  him  once,  though  chilled  and  dormant: 
now,  would  bloom  again,  for  he  could  bring  it  back  to  life, 
and  I  must  be  his;  he  could  not  live  without  me.  I  need  not 
decide  then,  that  night,"  he  said,  "  he  would  give  me  time," 
and  again  he  pressed  for  my  answer,  which  was  the  same  as 
before;  for,  much  as  I  pitied  him,  there  was  between  us  a 
dark  shadow,  and  the  substance  of  that  shadow  bore  the  form 
and  features  of  Richard  Delafield. 

Sinking  into  a  chair,  he  laid  his  head  upon  the  table,  while, 
burying  my  face  in  the  cushions  of  the  sofa,  I  wept  bitterly, 
stealing  occasional  glances  toward  the  bowed  form  which,  in 
its  despair,  gave  no  sign  of  life.  There  was  no  acting  there, 
for  it  was  the  grief  of  a  strong  man  which  I  saw.  Without, 
the  storm  had  ceased;  the  wind  had  died  away,  and  the  rain 
no  longer  beat  against  the  casement;  but  within,  there  raged 
a  wilder  storm  of  human  passions,  and  as  it  swept  over  me 
in  its  full  force,  I  cried,  mentally,  "  Ought  I  thus  to  deal  with 
him?  I  loved  him  once,  perhaps  I  could  do  so  again.  I 
would  at  least  try."  And,  rising  up,  I  glided  noiselessly  to 
his  side.  He  did  not  hear  me,  and  for  a  time  I  stood  gazing 
down  upon  him,  while  I  thought  of  all  he  had  suffered,  and 
of  his  love  for  me,  which  I  could  not  doubt.  The  shadow  no 
longer  stood  between  us;  it  was  gone,  and,  strengthened  by 
its  absence,  I  laid  my  hand  upon  his  shoulder.  He  shuddered 
as  if  it  had  been  a  serpent's  touch;  but  when  I  whispered  in 
his  ear,  "  Look  up,  I  have  something  to  tell  you,"  he  raised 
his  head,  disclosing  to  my  view  a  face  over  which  years  seemed 
to  have  passed  since  last  I  had  looked  upon  it. 

"  I  will  try,"  I  said,  "  but  give  me  one  day  for  reflection, 
and  to-morrow  night,  you  shall  have  your  answer." 

As  the  clouds  are  dispersed  by  the  soft  rays  of  the  sun,  so 
the  shadows  passed  from  his  brow  at  my  words,  and  clasping 
me  in,  his  arms,  he  wept  over  me,  as  Heaven  grant  1  may 
never  see  man  weep  again. 

•'Ire  on  the  hearth  had  long  aiuce  gone  ©nt,     The  lamp 


IDS  MEAROW    BROOK. 

was  burning  dimly,  and  the  moonbeams  came  faintly  m 
through  an  eastern  window  ere  I  bid  him  good-night  and 
sought  the  solitude  of  my  room,  where  my  resolution  almost 
instantly  gave  way,  for  the  shadow  was  there,  and  in  its  pres 
ence  I  felt  I  would  rather  die  than  wed  a  man  I  did  not  love. 

"  Oh,  for  a  female  friend  with  whom  to  counsel  in  .my 
need,"  I  said,  as  I  nervously  paced  the  room. 

I  thought  of  Mrs.  Lansing.  She  was  a  woman — she  had 
been  kind  to  me  of  late,  and  after  a  few  moments'  reflection  I 
letermined  to  ask  her  advice.  This  being  settled,  I  fell  into 
3,  disturbed  sleep,  from  which  I  did  not  wake  until  the  bell 
<vas  ringing  for  breakfast.  I  met  him  at  the  table,  and  my 
heart  beat  fast  when  I  saw  how  anxiously  he  scanned  my  hag= 
gard  face. 

"  You  are  sick  this  morning/'  he  said,  when  at  last  we  were 
alone. 

Taking  my  hand  he  felt  my  quickened  pulse,  and  con 
tinued,  *  This  must  not  be.  Calm  yourself  down,  for  I  would 
not  wish  you  to  answer  me  under  all  this  excitement." 

Soon  after  this  he  left  me,  going  down  to  the  hotel  where 

he  had  first  stopped  on  his  arrival  at  W .  As  soon  as  he 

was  gone  I  sought  an  interview  with  Mrs.  Lansing,  to  whom 
I  confided  the  whole  story  of  my  former  love  for  Doctor  Clay 
ton,  and  of  my  feelings  now,  asking  her  to  tell  me  as  a  friend 
what  I  should  do.  I  did  not  dare  look  her  in  the  face  while 
I  was  talking,  and  when  I  had  finished  I  waited  with  downcast 
eyes  for  her  answer,  which  was  characteristic  of  a  woman  who 
had  never  known  what  love  was,  save  as  she  felt  it  for  her 
children. 

"Do!  "Why,  marry  him  of  course.  I  should  not  hesitate 
a  moment,  for  'tis  not  every  girl  in  your  circumstances  who 
has  an  offer  like  that.  He  seems  to  be  a  perfect  gentleman 
—is  certainly  very  fine  looking,  is  refined,  polished,  highly 
educated,  and  has  a  good  profession.  What  more  can  you 
desire?"' 

"  Love  for  him,"  I  replied;  and  she  continued,  "  Pshaw) 
That  will  come  soon  enough,  depend  upon  it.  There  are 
many  happy  marriages  where  one  of  the  parties  had  at  first 
o  particular  affection  for  the  other,  as  J  myself  can  testify. 
1  respected  Mr.  Lansing  when  I  married  him,  but  I  did  not 
love  him,  and  our  union  was,  I  am  confident,  far  happier  than 
three  fourths  of  those  where  love  is  the  ruling  motive,  for  in 
nine  cases  out  of  ten  they  grow  sick  of  each  other  as  faults 
tnd  peculiarities  are  brought  to  light,  of  whose  existence  they 
had  never  dreamed.  Take  your  own  case  for  an  example, 


MEADOW    BROOK.  JS9 


Suppose  you  had  married  Doctor  Clayton  when  you  f 
him  so  much,  you  would  undoubtedly  have  b€££.  disgusted 
with  him  by  this  time,  whereas,  now  thsr  7ou  know  he  is  falli 
ble,  you  can  safely  link  your  destiny  with  his,  feeling  sure 
that  in  good  time  the  love  you  once  had  for  him  will  return." 

I  knew  there  was  some  truth  in  this  argument,  but  it  failed 
to  convince  me,  and  I  remained  silent  until  Mrs.  Lansing 
startled  me  with,  "  You  do  not  of  course  love  another?" 

I  was  taken  by  surprise,  and  without  a  thought  of  the  re« 
suit,  ^answered,  "  I  ao." 
»     "  And  that  other?"  she  continued,  fixing  her  eyes  upon  me, 

I  know  not  what  .possessed  me,  but  a  power  I  could  not  re% 
sist  impelled  me  to  answer,  "  Is  your  brother." 

She  did  not  send  me  from  her  presence  with  scorn  and 
loathing,  as  I  thought  she  would.  Nay,  she  did  not  even 
speak,  but  for  a  time  stood  mute  with  astonishment.  As  I 
think  of  that  scene,  I  understood  her  better,  and  I  know  that  ' 
the  truth,  just  as  it  was,  dawned  upon  her  mind,  and  suggest* 
ed  the  falsehood  which  she  uttered. 

Coming  closely  to  me,  she  said,  "  I  can  not  see  why  it  is 
that  all  my  governesses  have  fallen  in  love  with  my  brother; 
yet  such  is  the  case.  I  did  think,  Miss  Lee,  that  you  were  an 
exception,  but  I  find  I  am  mistaken,  which  surprises  me 
greatly,  inasmuch  as  he  has  never  paid  you  the  slightest  atten 
tion,  and  even  if  he  had,  I  do  not  understand  how  you  could 
think  him  in  earnest.  For  years  the  world  has  looked  upon 
his  union  with  Ada  as  sure,  and  though  for  certain  reasons  I 
have  sometimes  opposed  it,  I  am  anxious  for  it  now,  and  it  is 
well  that  I  am,  for  I  cappose  it  is  a  settled  thing." 

I  held  -  my  breath  for  fear  I  should  lose  a  single  word  of 
what  she  should  say  next.  Perhaps  she  was  unused  to  false 
hoods.  Be  that  as  it  may,  her  voice  trembled  slightly  and  she 
spoke  hurriedly  as  she  said,  "  They  are  engaged,  and  have  been 
ever  since  she  went  to  Mobile,  and  they  will  probably  be  mar 
ried  next  autumn;  hence  you  see  that  the  love  you  have  pre 
sumed  to  feel  for  him  would  be  useless,  even  were  you  his 
equal." 

She  started  to  leave  me,  but  turned  back  while  she  said, 
:<  I  trust  that  what  I  have  told  you  will  be  kept  a  secret,  for 
Richard  does  not  wish  to  have  the  matter  discussed." 

I  nodded  assent,  and  the  next  moment  I  was  alone  with  my 

sorrow,  which  was  fs  r  easier  to  bear  now  that  uncertainty  was 

siade  sure.     So  long  as  there  remained  a  lingering  hope  that 

my  love  for  Mr.  Delafield  might  possibly  be  reciprocated,  I 

mk  in  horror  from  marrying  another.    But  now  tb^  ' 


S00  MEADOW    BROOK. 

was  swept  away — for  I  never  thought  of  doubting  Mrs.  Laii  > 
sing''s  words — and  a  kind  of  torpor  crept  over  me,  suspending 
for  a  time  both  my  judgment  and  my  will. 

"  I  will  marry  Doctor  Clayton/'  I  said;  and  with  that  decis 
ion  came  a  feeling  of  gratified  pride  as  I  thought  I  should 
tfius  prove  to  Eichard  how  little  I  cared  for  him! 

Ah!  I  knew  not  then  that  the  heart  I  coveted  enshrined  no 
image  save  that  of  Eosa  Lee,  for  whom  Eichard  Delafield 
Would  almost  have  laid  down  his  life,  so  great  was  the  love  he 
bore  her.  He  had  readily  divined  the  object  of  the  stran-1 
ger's  visit,  and  the  thought  that  it  might  be  successful  wae 
terrible.  All  the  night  long  he,  too,  had  .been  sleepless,  pac 
ing  the  length  and  breadth  of  his  spacious  halls  and  murmur 
ing  occasionally  as,  peering  out  into  the  darkness,  he  saw  the 
glimmering  light  from  the  windows  of  Cedar  Grove,  "  Oh, 
Eosa,  Eosa,  how  can  I  give  you  up!" 

Perhaps  I  am  superstitious,  but  I  can  not  help  fancying 
that  as  often  as  these  words  rang  out  on  the  midnight  air,  the 
shadow  was  over  and  around  me.  But  alas!  it  faded  and  I 
vas  left  to  do  the  rash  act  I  meditated.  With  the  coming  of 
jiorn  Mr.  Delafield  grew  calm,  for  he  had  resolved  upon  an 
interview  with  Eosa  Lee,  who,  if  it  were  not  too  late,  should 
know  how  much  he  loved  her,  and  perhaps — his  heart  thrilled 
^rith  joy  as  he  thought  it — perhaps  she  might  yet  be  won 
from  that  fancy  of  her  childhood.  But  first  he  would,  if  pos 
sible,  learn  from  his  sister  how  far  matters  had  progressed. 
He  had  seldom  imparted  to  her  his  secrets,  but  he  would 
speak  to  her  now,  for  he  could  not  keep  silent. 

She  was  seated  at  her  work  in  her  own  room  when  he  en 
tered,  and  with  a  feeling  of  alarm  at  his  pale,  haggard  face, 
she  started  up,  asking  if  he  were  ill.  Motioning  her  aside,  he 
said,  abruptly,  "  It's  of  no  use,  Angeline,  to  deceive  yon 
longer.  I  love  Eosa  Lee,  and  if  it  were  not  for  this  accursed" 
Doctor,  I  should  tell  her  so  at  once.  Do  yon  know  aught  of 
nis  attentions?  Has  he  come  to  seek  her  for  his  wife?" 

Mrs.  Lansing  had  now  a  double  part  to  perform.  The 
falsehood  she  had  told  to  Eosa  made  it  necessary  that  she 
should  tell  another  to  her  brother,  which  she  did  more  read 
ily,  for  her  proud  nature  revolted  at  the  thought  of  receiving 
her  governess  as  her  sister-in-law.  So,  thinking  any  means 
excusable  which  would  prevent  so  disgraceful  a  catastrophe, 
-she  answered  with  well -feigned  surprise,  "  I  am  astonished  at 
you,  brother — astonished  that  a  Delafield  should  stoop  so  low 
as  to  think  of  wedding  a  girl  like  Eosa  Lee.  You  can  not,  I 
think,  be  in  earnest;  but  if  you  are,  I  am  rejofoed  that  I 


MEADOW    BSOOfc,  301 

it  iu  my  power  to  tell  you  there  is  no  hope.  1  aave  just  left 
Miss  Lee,  who  has  made  me  her  confidant,  asking  if  I  thought 
it  would  be  contrary  to  i  11  rules  of  propriety  for  her  to  marry 
Doctor  Clayton  so  soon  after  the  death  of  his  wife.  It  seems 
he  has  always  preferred  her;  and  could  you  have  heard  her 
tell  how  much  she  loved  him,  I  am  sure  you  would  have  no 
hope  of  winning  her,  even  were  she  your  equal." 

The  wicked  woman  paused,  trembling  at  her  own  wicked 
ness,  while  her  brother,  burying  his  face  in  his  hands,  groaned 
aloud.  It  was  an  hour  of  bitter  trial,  for  Rosa  Lee  alone  had 
touched  his  heart,  and  could  he  give  her  up  just  as  he  hacl 
found  how  dear  she  was  to  him?  For  a  time  the  selfish  nat 
ure  of  the  man  prevailed,  and  then  there  came  a  moment  of 
calmer  reflection;  if  Rosa  loved  another,  would  it  be  right  for 
him  to  mar  her  happiness  by  intruding  upon  her  his  affec 
tion?  Should  he  not,  rather,  rejoice  in  knowing  that  she  was 
happy  with  the  man  she  had  chosen,  and  if,  henceforth,  the 
world  to  him  was  dark  and  cheerless,  might  he  not  occasion 
ally  gather  a  gleam  of  comfort  from  knowing  that  no  shadow 
was  across  her  pathway?  Thus  he  reasoned,  and  when  his 
sister  ventured  at  last  to  say,  "  You  will  not  be  foolish  enough 
to  talk  with  her?"  he  answered;,  4<  No,  no;  of  course  not;" 
then  with  no  visible  sign  of  the  fierce  storm  which  had  swept 
over  him,  save  the  extreme  pallor  of  his  face,  he  arose,  and 
with  a  firm  tread  went  back  to  his  home,  unconscious  of  the 
tear-wet  eyes  which  followed  his  retreating  footsteps,  as  from 
her  window  Rosa  Lee  watched  him  with  a  despairing  heart 
and  benumbed  faculties. 

Not  again  that  day  was  Cedar  Grove  gladdened  by  his  pres 
ence,  and  when  next  morning  he  came  as  was  his  wont,  I  was 
the  betrothed  of  Doctor  Clayton,  who,  with  joy  beaming  in 
every  look,  sat  by  my  side,  talking  to  me  of  the  pleasure  we 
should  experience  in  our  projected  European  tour,  for  we 
were  to  visit  the"  Old  World,  and  he  wished  our  marriage  to 
be  consummated  at  once,  so  \ve  could  sail  the  last  of  June, 
In  a  measure  I  had  dealt  candidly  with  him,  frankly  acKiiowl- 
edging  that  the  love  I  had  felt  for  him  in  childhood  was  gone, 
but  saying,  as  was  true,  that  I  respected  him — yes,  liked  him, 
and  if  he  was  satisfied  with  that,  I  would  be  unto  him  a  faith 
ful  wife,  hoping  that  the  affection  of  former  years  might  ere 
long  awake  again  in  my  heart.  And  he  was  conient  to  take 
me  thus,  blessing  me  for. the  utterance  of  words  which  made 
him  so  happy. 

Involuntarily  I  shrunk  from  him,  for  I  knew  I  was  unde  = 
serving  of  such  devotion,  and  mv  conscience  smote  ine  :L 


SOS  MEADOW* 

withholding  irom  him  the  knowledge  of  my  love  for  EiehareS 
Delafieid.     But  that  was  a  secret  I  could  not  reveal,  so  I  kept 
it  to  myself,  and  with  a  kind  of  apathetic  indifference  listened 
while  he  depicted  in  glowing  colors  the  joyous  future  which 
he  saw  before  him  when  I  should  indeed  be  his  wife.     He  was 
going  to  New  Orleans  on  business,  which  would  detain  hir 
for  three  or  four  weeks,  and  on  his  return  he  asked  that 
ceremony  might  be  performed,  and  I  go  with  him  to  Meat. 
Brook  as  his  bride. 

"  No,  not  so  soon,"  I  exclaimed.  "  Leave  me  my  freedoL 
a  little  longer;"  but  he  only  smiled  as  he  waived  aside  every 
objection  and  won  from  me  a  promise  that  if  Mrs.  Lansing 
were  willing,  we  would  be  married  there  as  soon  as  he  should 
return  from  New  Orleans,  whither  he  would  start  the  next 
night. 

Either  by  design  or  accident,  Mrs.  Lansing  herself  at  that 
moment  entered  the  room,  apologizing  for  the  intrusion  by 
saying  she  wanted  a  book  which  lay  upon  the  piano.  Having 
secured  the  volume,  she  was  about  leaving,  when,  glancing  at 
the  doctor,  she  playfully  remarked  upon  the  happy  expression 
of  his  face,  saying  she  should  judge  his  suit  was  progressing, 
and  adding  that  he  had  her  good  wishes  for  his  success.  Em 
boldened  by  her  familiarity,  Doctor  Clayton  at  once  preferred 
to  her  his  wish  that  we  might  be  made  one  under  the  shadow 
of  her  roof;  we  would  make  no  trouble,  he  said,  as  we  wished 
for  no  display,  simply  a  quiet  ceremony  at  which  no  one 
should  be  present  save  herself,  her  children,  and  her  brother. 

At  the  mention  of  him  I  started  as  if  smitten  by  a  heavy 
blow,  for  I  thought,  "  I  can  not  in  his  presence  give  myself 
to  another;"  and  I  used  all  the  arguments  of  which  1  was 
mistress  to  induce  Doctor  Clayton  to  defer  our  marriage  cntil 
we  reached  Meadow  Brook,  feut  to  this  neither  he  nor  Mrs. 
Lansing  would  listen.  Glad  that  I  was  thus  out  of  her  wayp 
fche  latter  seemed  unusually  kind,  offering  to  give  me  a  bridal, ' 
party  as  a  "  testimony  of  her  respect."  Thus  was  I  silenced, 
while  they  arranged  the  matter  as  they  pleased,  it  being  finally 
decided  that  the  wedding  was  to  take  place  immediately  after 
the  .doctor's  return,  as  he  had  first  proposed.  So  overcome 
and  bewildered  was  I  with  the  exciting  scenes  through  which 
I  had  passed,  that,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  I  slept  soundly 
that  night,  dreaming  toward  day-break  that  I  stood  on  the 
deck  of  a  noble  vessel,  gazing  upon  a  most  glorious  sunset, 
which,  however,  nad  less  charms  for  me  than  did  the  man  at 
my  side,  whom  I  called  my  husband,  and  whom  I  loved  agam 
as  I  had  done  long  ago.  when  With  my  face  buried  in.  ti£ 

' 


MEADOW 

Efrass  beneath,  the  old  grape-^me  I  had  wept  over  his  incon 
stancy. 

With  the  remembrance  of  time  dream  still  haunting  me,  it- 
was  quite  natural  that  I  should  in  the  morning  meet  Doctor 
Olayton  with  more  cordiality  of  manner  than  I  had  yet  evinced 
toward  him.  Quickly  perceiving  the  change,  he  said,  as  he 
kissed  my  brow,  "  My  Rosa  is  learning  to  love  me,  I  see." 

And  for  a  brief  moment  /,  *oo,  fancied  that  he  was  right— 
that  I  should  love  him — nay,  that  I  was  beginning  to  love 
him,  when  suddenly  in  the  door-way  appeared:  the  form  of 
one,  the  very  sight  of  whom  curdled  my  blood  for  an  instant 
and  then  sent  it  bounding  through  my  veins.  It  was  Mr. 
Del  afield.  He  had  nerved  himself  to  see  me,  to  stand  face  to 
face  with  his  rival,  and  bravely  did  he  meet  the  trial,  bowing 
courteously  to  Doctor  Clayton  and  smiling  kindly  down  upon 
me  as  he  bid  me  good-morning.  I  glanced  at  him  once  and 
saw  that  his  eyes  were  riveted  upon  the  plain  band  of  gold 
which  encircled  my  fourth  finger,  confirming  the  truth  of 
what  he  had  just  heard  from  his  sister.  At  last,  as  if  he 
would  test  his  strength  to  the  utmost,  he*  took  my  hand  and 
said,  as  he  slowly  twirled  the  ring,  which  was  rather  large, 
"  And  so  you  are  going  from  us?" 

I  could  not  answer,  nor  was  it  needful  that  I  should,  for, 
without  waiting  a  reply,  he  placed  my  hand  in  that  of  Doctor 
Clayton,  and  continued,  "  As  a  brother  commits  a  dear  sister 
to  the  care  of  another,  so  commit  I  to  your  care  my  North 
ern  Hose,  charging  you  to  watch  tenderly  over  her,  for  'tis  not 
every  one  who  winneth  such  a  treasure." 

This  was  all  he  said;  the  next  'moment  he  was  gone,  and 
when  Doctor  Clayton,  drawing  me  to  his  side,  told  me  how  he 
would  treasure  up  the  words  of  my  friend,  I  involuntarily 
shrunk  away,  'for  the  shadow  was  again  around  me,  and  turn 
which  way  I  would  it  whispered  to  me  of  another  lo^e,  an- 
other  heart,  which  I  fain  would  have  called  my  own. 

That  night  Doctor  Clayton  left  us,  and  the  very  morning 
after  his  departure  we  were  surprised  by  the  appearance  of 
Ada,  who  came  unexpectedly  to  us  all.  "  She  was  tired  of 
living  with  that  old  fidgety  Mrs.  Johnson,"  she  said,  "  and 
would  rather  come  home."  Much  as  Mrs.  Lansing  liked 
Ada,  she  would  rather  she  had  stayed  away  until  I  was  gone, 
for  she  was  in  constant  dread  lest  the  falsehood  she  had  told 
me  concerning  her  brother's  engagement  should  in  some  way 
be  betrayed.  But  there  was  "no  help  for  it,  and  as  one  sin  al 
ways  calls  for  another,  so  she  must  now  conjure  up  something 
with  which  to  meet  the  emergency.  Accordingly,  Ada  w&3 


MEADOW 

told  that  "  somehow  or  other  I  had  received  the  impression 
that  she  was  engaged  to  Mr.  Delafield,  and  that  it  was  as  well 
to  let  me  think  so;  for  though  I  probably  liked  Doctor  Clay 
ton  well  enough,  she — Mrs.  Lansing — fancied  that  I  liked  her 
brother  better,  and  that  if  I  supposed  there  was  the  slightest 
chance  of  winning  him,  I  would  not  hesitate  to  discard  the 
doctor." 

Very  readily  Ada  fell  in  with  the  views  of  Mrs.  Lansing, 
who  proposed  further  that  they  should  continually  ring  in  my 
ears  the  praises  of  my  affianced  husband,  of  whose  virtues 
Ada  was  supposed  to  have  heard  from  Mrs.  Lansing,  while  & 
the  same  time  I  was  to  be  interested  as  much  as  possible  li 
the  preparations  for  my  wedding,  which  was  to  be  quite  * 
grand  affair,  and  to  which  many  of  the  village  people  were  cc 
be  invited.  And  so  the  days  wore  on,  during  which  I  could 
hardly  be  said  to  exist,  so  little  did  I  realize  what  was  passing 
round  me.  I  dared  not  think,  for  if  I'  did,  the  tumult  of 
thought  which  crowded  upon  me  seemed  turning  my  brain  to 
fire,  and  when  each  morning  I  awoke  from  an  unrefreshing 
slumber,  it  was  always  with  the  thought,  "  What  is  it?  This 
load  which  oppresses  me  so?"  Then  as  the  stern  reality  came 
up  before  me,  I  would  bury  my  face  in  the  pillow,  and  ask 
that  I  might  die,  and  thus  escape  the  living  death  which  await, 
ed  me,  and  which  was  now  but  a  week  or  two  in  the  distance. 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE  CRISIS. 

IT  was  the  night  before  the  one  appointed  for  the  bridal, 
and  in  the  solitude  of  her  chamber  a  young  girl  wept  in  the 
utter  hopelessness  of  despair.  At  the  morrow's  early  dawn 
lie  would  be  theie  to  claim  her  as  his  bride,  and  though  he 
was  noble  and  good,  there  was  in  her  heart  no  answering 
.chord  of  love,  and  she  knew  that  without  such  love  their  union 
'would  be  .unholy.  Earnestly  and  with  many  tears  had  she 
striven  to  awaken  again  the  deep  affection  she  had  felt  for 
him  in  the  time  gone  by,  but  it  could  not  be;  and  shuddering- 
ly  she  thought  of  the  long,  weary  years  when  she  should  be 
an  niloving  wife,  bearing  a  crushed  and  aching  heart,  wherein 
was  enshrined  the  memory  of  one  of  whom  it  would  soon  be 
a  sin  to  think. 

On  the  table  at  her  side  lay  h^r  bridal  dress,  the  gift  of 
Itichard  Delafield,  who,  without  a  shadow  on  his  brow,  or  a 
wavering  in  the  tones  of  his  voice,  had  asked  her  to  accept  it 
as  a  token  of  the  esteem  he  should  ever  feel  for  her.  AlasJ 


MEADOW    BROOK.  205 

» 

^oor  Rosa,  as  your  tears  fell  like  rain  upon  the  orange  wreath 
which  seemed  to  mock  your  woe,  how  little  did  you  dream  of 
the  anguish  it  cost  the  donor  to  say  to  you  the  words  he  did, 
or  that  your  sorrow  was  naught  compared  to  his,. for  you  could 
weep,  while  to  him  this  privilege  was  denied,  and  his  was  the 
hard  task  of  enduring  in  silence  the  burning  pain  which  no 
tear-drop  came  to  moisten. 

Slowly  the  hours  of  night  wore  away,  and  as  the  moon  rose 
(igher  and  higher  in  the  heavens,  her  rays  fell'upon  the  bowed 
form  of  Rosa,  who,  with  clasped  hands  and  bloodless  cheeks 
sat  just  where  first  we  saw  her,  praying,  weeping,  thinking, 
and  praying  again,  until  at  last  there  came  over  her  troubled 
spirit  a  calm  which  ere  long  resolved  itself  into  a  fixed  deter 
mination.  "  She  would  tell  him  all — how  she  loved  R?  chard 
Delafield,  and  how,  though  that  love  were  hopeless,  she  could 
not  call  another  her  husband."  And  he  would  release  her — 
she  knew  he  would.  •"  But  if  he  should  not?"  seemed  whis 
pered  in  her  ear.  For  an  instant  her  heart  stood  still,  and 
then  she  answered  aloud,  "  I  will  not  do  this  great  wickedness, 
and  sin  against  both  God  and  man." 

It  was  strange  how  calm  this  resolution -made  her.  Rising 
up  from  the  crouching  posture  she  had  assumed  in  the  first 
abandonment  of  her  grief,  she  walked  to  the  open  window, 
where  she  stood  gazing  out  upon  the  starry  sky,  until  at  last, 
sick  and  faint  with  the  sweet  perfume  of  the  night  air,  she 
turned  away,  and  shuddering,  she  knew  not  why,  sought  her 
pillow.  It  was  now  the  first  of  June,  and  in  that  Southern 
clime  the  air  was  already  hot,  sultry,  and  laden  with  disease. 
For  two  weeks  a  fearful  epidemic,  whose  nature  the  oldest 
"physicians  did  not  understand,  had  been  raging  in  the  towns 
adjoining,  and  many  who  in  the  morning  rose  up  full  of  life 
and  vigor,  were  in  the  evening  no  longer  numbered  among  the 
living,  so  rapid  was  the  work  of  death.  In  great  alarm  the 
terrified  inhabitants  had  fled  from  place  to  place,  but  the  de 
stroyer  was  on  their  track,  and  the  "  brain  fever,"  as  it  was 
termed,  claimed  them  for  its  victims. 

As  yet  there  had  been  no  cases  in  W ,  but  the  people 

were  in  daily  dread  of  its  arrival,  and  a  feeling  of  gloom  per 
vaded  the  village.  Mrs.  Lansing,  on  the  contrary,  though 
usually  alarmed,  even  at  the  mention  of  a  contagious  disease, 
expressed  no  fear,  and  went  on  with  the  preparations  for  the 
party,  unconscious  of  the  dark  cloud  hovering  near.  But 
when  on  the  morning  succeeding  the  night  of  which  we  have 
spoken,  she  heard,  in  passing  Rosa's  door,  the  sound  of  some 
9Ae  talking  incoherently,  while  at  the  same  time  a  negro  girl 


206  MEADOW    BEOOK. 

came 'rushing  out,  exclaiming,  "The  Lord  help  us!  young 
miss  has  now  got  the  brain,  fever,  and  gone  ravin'  mad!"  sh« 
fled  in  wild  alarm  to  the  furthest  extremity  of  the  building, 
and  gathering  her  frightened  children  together,  with  Ada, 
around  her,  she  called  to  the  terrified  servants  from  the  win 
dow,  bidding  them  go  for  her  brother  and  tell  him  as  he 
valued  his  life  not  to  venture  near  the  infected  room,  but  to 
hasten  with  all  speed  to  her.  And  there,  trembling,  weeping, 
and  wringing  her  hands  in  fear,  the  selfish,  cold-hearted  wom 
an  stayed,  while,  parched  with  fever  and  thirst,  the  suffering 
tgirl  lay  moaning  in  her  pain;  how  asking  for  water  to  cool 
Ber  burning  brain,  and  again  clasping  her  thin  white  hands 
convulsively  upon  her  brow,  as  if  to  still  its  agonized  throb- 
bings. 

But  one  there  was  who  did  not  forget.  In  her  excitement 
Mrs.  Lansing  failed  to  notice  the  absence  of  little  Jessie,  who 
going  fearlessly  to  the  bedside  of  her  beloved  teacher,  gently 
bathed  the  aching  head,  and  administered  the  cooling  draught, ' 
while  with  childish  love  she  kissed  the  ashen  lips,  and  smoothed 
back  the  long  tresses  which  floated  over  the  pillow.  In  the 
hall  below  there  was  the  sound  of  footsteps,  and  the  bride- 

§  room's  voice  was  heard,  asking  for  his  bride,  but  his  cheek 
lanched  to  a  marble  whiteness  when  told  that  she  was  dying 
in  the  chamber  above.  In  a  moment  he  had  her  in  his  arms 
—his  precious  Rosa — dying — dying — he  believed,  for  he,  too, 
had  heard  of  the  strange  disease,  and  he  thought  there  was  no 
hope.  With  a  bitter  cry  he  bent  over  the  unconscious  girl, 
who  knew  him  not,  for  the  light  of  reason  was  obscured  and 
darkness  was  upon  her  vision. 

"  Can  nothing  be  done?  Is  there  no  help?"  he  exclaimed 
wildly;  and  little  Jessie,  awed  by  his  grief,  answered,  as  she 
laid  her  soft,  white  hand  on  Rosa's  forehead,  "  God  can  help 
her,  and  maybe  Uncle  Dick  can.  I  mean  to  go  for  him;" 
and  gliding  noiselessly  from  the  room,  she  was  soon  on  her 
way  to  Sunny  Bank,  looking,  with  her  golden  curls  floating 
over  her  bare  white  shoulders,  as  if  she  were  indeed  an  angel 

of  mercy. 

******* 

Alone  in  his  library  sat  Richard  Delafield,  his  arms  resting 
upon  the » table,  and  his  face  buried  in  his  hands.  All  the 
night  long  he  had  sat  there  thus,  musing  sadly  of  the  future 
when  she  would  be  gone  and  he  should  be  alone.  Why  had 
she  crossed  his  path — that  little,  humble  girl?  and  why  had 
he  been  permitted  to  love  her  so  madly,  or  to  dream  of  a  time 
when  he  could  call  her  "te  own,  his  Kosa,  his  wife?*1 


MEADOW    BROOK. 

Ag.?in  and  again  he  repeated  those  words  to  himself,  and  then 
as  he  thought  whose  she  would  be  when  another  sun  should 
have  set,  he  groaned  aloud,  and  in  despairing  tones  cried  out, 
"  How  can  I  give  her  up?" 

The  sun  had  risen,  and,  struggling  through  the  richly  cur 
tained  window,  fell  upon  his  bowed  head;  but  he  did  not  need 
it.  He  was  sleeping  at  last,  and  in  his  dreams  another  thaa 
Doctor  Clayton  had  claimed  Rosa  for  his  bride,  even  Death, 
and  without  a  tear  he  laid  her  in  her  coffin,  and  buried  hef 
where  the  soft  sighing  cedar  and  the  whispering  pine  would 
overshadow  her  grave.  From  that  dream  he  was  roused  by 
Jessie,  who  shrieked  in  his  ear,  "  Wake,  Uncle  Dick,  and 
come.  Miss  Lee  is  dying  with  the  fever,  and  there  is  nobody 
to  help  her." 

For  a  time  the  selfish  part  of  Richard  Delaneld's  nature 
gained  the  ascendant,  and  he  said  aloud,  "  Thank  God! 
Rather  thus  than  the  bride  of  another." 

Still  this  feeling  did  not  prevent  him  from  action,  and  with 
a  firm  step  and  composed  manner  he  went  with  Jessie  to 
Cedar  Grove,  going  immediately  to  Rosa's  chamber,  where, 
for  a  moment,  he  stood  appalled  at  the  scene  before  him. 
She  had  fearfully  changed  since  last  he  saw  her,  for  the  dis 
ease  had  advanced  with  rapid  strides,  and  now  utterly  insensi 
ble,  and  white  as  the  wintery  snow,  she  lay  with  her  head 
thrown  back,  and  her  lips  apart,  while  her  hands  nervously 
picked  at  the  bed-clothes  around  her!  Many  a  time  had  Doc 
tor  Clayton  heard  that  this  was  a  sure  omen  of  death,  and 
though  he  had  ever  laughed  at  it  as  an  old  woman's  whim,  he 
shuddered  now  as  he  saw  it  in  her,  and  bowing  his  head  upon 
the  pillow,  he  wept  like  a  child.  For  a  moment  Richard 
Delafield  stood  gazing  upon  the  apparently  dying  girl  and  the 
weeping  man,  who  seemed  wholly  incapable  of  action;  then 
rousing  himself,  he  went  in  quest  of  the  black  women,  com 
manding  them  in  a  voice  they  dare  not  disobey  to  come  at 
once  to  the  sick-room.  He  had  heard  that  nothing  but  vio 
lent  and  continual  perspiration  had  as  yet  been  of  any  avail  in 
such  extreme  cases,  and  calmly  giving  orders  to  that  effect, 
he  himself  assisted  while  the  hemlock  and  the  bottles  of  hot 
water  were  applied,  then,  administering  a  powerful  tonic,  he 
bid  Jessie  go  to  her  mother,  while  he  took  his  station  at  the 
bedside  to  watch  the  result. 

Quieted  in  a  measure  by  the  cool  demeanor  of  his  compan 
ion,  Doctor  Clayton,  too,  arose,  and  after  hurriedly  pacing 
the  room,  resumed  his  post,  and  there  on  each  side  of  Rosa 
they  stood,  those  two  men,  the  one  with  his  fair,  handsome 


208  MEADOW    BROOK. 

face  stained  with  tears,  praying  earnestly  that  she  might  lirej 
while  the  other,  with  dark,  lowering  countenance  and  wrin 
kled  brow,  Suood  with  folded  arms  and  firmly  compressed 
lips,  struggling,  to  subdue  the  evil  passion  which  whispered 
"  Let  her  die!  There  will  be  a  comfort  in  weeping  over  her 
grave,  and  knowing  that  she  sleeps  there  in  all  her  maiden 
purity." 

In  the  meantime  Jessie  had  been  missed,  and  a  servant  dis 
patched  to  find  her.  But  this  the  woman  failed  to  do,  as  she 
was  then  at  Sunny  Bank,  and  Mrs.  Lansing  was  about  ventur 
ing  to  go  in  quest  of  her,  when  she  appeared  with  her  uncle's 
message,  saying,  "  she  knew  Miss  Lee  was  dying,  she  looked 
so  dreadfully." 

"Jessie — child!"  screamed. the  affrighted  Mrs.  Lansing, 
shrinking  from  the  little  'girl  as  if  she  had  been  a  loathsome 
thing.  "  Have  you  been  there — in  the  room?" 

Without  any  attempt  at  concealment,  Jessie  told  what  she 
had  done,  and  when  her  mother  exclaimed,  "  You  are  a  dead 
child,"  she  answered,  fearlessly,  "  I  am  not  afraid  to  die." 

Just  then  the  negro  who  had  been  sent  to  the  village  for 
the  family  physician,  returned,  bringing  the  news  that  the 
fever  had  broken  out  there  the  night  before,  and  that  in  one 
family  two  were  already  dead,  while  a  third  was  thought  to  be 
dying.  In  the  utmost  dismay,  Mrs.  Lansing  now  announced 
her  intention  of  leaving  the  place  at  once  and  fleeing  for  safety 
to  her  brother's  plantation,  which  was  distant  about  twelve 
miles. 

"  And  leave  Miss  Lee  alone?  Oh,  mother!"  said  Jessie, 
beginning  to  cry,  while  Halbert,  frightened  as  he  was,  remon 
strated  against  the  unfeeling  desertion. 

But  Mrs.  Lansing  was  determined.  "She  couldn't  help 
her  at  all  if  she  stayed,"  she  said.  "  And  the  colored  women 
would  do  all  that  was  necessary;  it  wasn't  like  leaving  her 
alone  with  Doctor  Clayton,  for  there  were  a  dozen  able-bodied 
females  in  the  house  to  wait  upon  her." 

"  And  if  she  dies?"  suggested  Jessie;  but  her  mother  would 
not  hear  to  reason,  and  urged  on  by  Ada,  who  was  no  less 
frightened  than  herself,  she  ordered  out  the  traveling  carriage, 
which  soon*  stood  before  the  door. 

She  would  fain  have  had  her  brother  accompany  her,  but 
she  knew  it  was  useless  to  propose  it.  Still,  she  would  see  him 
before  she  went,  and  her  waiting-maid  was  sent  to  bring  him. 

"I'll  go.  Let  me  go,"  said  Jessie;  and  ere  her  mother 
could  detain  her,  she  was  half-way  there. 

Entering  the  room  on  tiptoe,  she  gave  her  uncle  her  moth- 


MEADOW    BKOOR. 

ei  4s  message,  and  tb.eu  stealing  up  to  Rosa,  wound  her  arms 
round  her  neck,  and  laying  her  soft,  warm  cheek  caressingly 
against  the  white,  thin  face  of  the  teacher,  wept  her  last 
adieu.  They  would  never,  never  meet  again,  for  ere  the  sum 
mer  flowers  were  faded,  one  would  be  safely  in  the  bosom  of 
the  Good  Shepherd,  who  would  lead  her  in  green  pastures, 
and  beside  the  still  waters  of  the  better  land. 

"  Bury  her  under1  the  tall  magnolia,  a  little  ways  from  fa 
ther,"  was  Jessie's  last  injunction  to  Doctor  Clayton,  whose 
tears  burst  forth  afresh,  for  not  till  then  had  he  thought  how, 
he  must  leave  her  alone  in. that  far  South  land — many  miles 
way  from  her  native  hills,  and  that  to  him  would  be  denied 
the  solace  of  weeping  over  her  early  grave. 


It  was  in  vain  that  Mr.  Delafield  attempted  to  dissuade  his 
•nister  froni  going.  She  would  not  listen,  for  their  lives,  she 
said,  were  all  endangered  by  remaining  in  town,  and  as  several 
other  families  were  going  to  leave,  she  should  follow  their 
example — then  bidding  him  hasten  to  them  the' moment  Rosa 
was  dead,  she  entered  her  carriage  and  was  driven  rapidly 
'iway,  followed  by  Halbert  and  two  or  three  negroes  on  horse 
back.  Unfeeling  as  this  proceeding  seemed  to  Richard,  he 
still  experienced  a  sensation  of  relief  at  the  absence  of  the 
family,  and  thinking  they  would  probably  be  safer  at  The 
Pines  than  at  Cedar  Grove,  he  returned  to  the  chamber  above, 
where  Rosa  still  lay,  in  the  same  death-like  unconsciousness, 
perfectly  still  save  when  a  movement  of  the  head  or  a  faint 
moan  told  how  she  suffered.  Everything  had  been  done  for 
her  which  could  be  done,  and  now  there  was  naught  for  them 
to  do  but  to  wait  and  watch,  which  they  did  in  perfect  silence 
- — Doctor  Clayton  with  his  head  bowed  upon  the  pillow,  while 
Mr  Delafield  leaned  against  the  wall,  with  compressed  lips-, 
and  eyes  dark  as  midnight  fastened  upon  the  white,  still  face 
before  him. 

The  clock  in  the  hall  struck  the  hour  of  eleven,  and  then, 
with  a  feeble  moan,  the  sick  girl  withdrew  her  hand  from  be-/ 
neath  the  covering,  and  when  the  stern  man  took  it  within  hi.-; 
own  he  forced  back  an  exclamation  of  joy,  for  it  was  ir 
with  perspiration.  There  was  hope,  and  his  first  impulse  was 
to  tell  the  good  news  to  his  companion;  but  the  demon,  which 
all  the  morning  he  had  hugged  to  his  bosom,  whispered,  "  not 
now — let  him  suffer  yet  a  little  longer!"  Soon,  however,  cast 
ing  this  thought  aside  as  unworthy  of  him,  he  said,  "  Look 
up,  Doctor  Clayton;  she  is  better.  She  may  live.  See!" 


210  MEADOW    BROOK. 

and  lifting  the  damp  hair  from  her  brow,  he  pointed  to  the 
dewy  drops  which  stood  thickly  upon  it. 

"  Thank  Heaven!"  was  Doctor  Clayton's  exclamation,  and 
bending  down,  he  said,  "  Rosa,  my  precious  Rosa!  She  will 
live,  and  you  have  saved  her,"  he  continued,  advancing  to 
ward  the  dark  statue,  whose  hand  he  pressed  to  his  lips. 
"  To  you  the  credit  is  due,  for  you  worked  when  despair  had 
rendered  me  powerless  to  do  it;  but  now  I  am  strong.  I  am 
myself  again,  and  if  I  have  any  skill  it  shall  be  exerted  in 
'her  behalf." 

\  There  was  a  curl  on  Richard  Delafield's  lip — a  blur  before 
jtiis  eyes,  and  an  icy  chill  at  his  heart,  which  prevented  him 
from  answering.  Bitter  were  the  thoughts  which  crowded 
upon  him,  and  which  he  strove  to  put  away.  -If  she  lived, 
would  it  not  be  in  a  measure  owing  to  the  efficient  means  he 
had  employed — and  why  should  he  wish  to  save  her?  Would  he 
not  rather  see  her  dead?  It  was  an  evil  spirit  which  counseled 
with  him  thus;  but  ere  long  the  noble  nature  of  Richard  Dela- 
field  conquered,  and  when  at  last  her  eyes  unclosed,  and  turned 
toward  Doctor  Clayton,  whose  name  she  breathed,  asking  for 
her  bridal  dress,  he  looked  on  calmly  while  his  rival  kissed 
her  again  and  again,  telling  her  she  should  yet  wear  it  and  be 
his  bride,  but  when  he  saw  how  she  shuddered  at  these  words, 
feebly  answering,  "  No,  no;  have  they  not  told  you  that  I 
can  not  be  your  bride,  for  another  has  come  between  us?"  a 
thrill  of  joy  ran  through  his  frame,  but  soon  passed  away  as 
he  thought  it  was  merely  the  vagary  of  a  disordered  mind. 

All  that  day  and  night  they^  stood  over  her,  applying  the 
remedies  said  to  be  most  efficient  in  cases  of  the  kind,  a,nd 
when  the  next  morning  came  she  was  unquestionably  better, 
though  still  in  great  danger  from  a  tendency  of  the  disease  to 
the  lungs,  which,  however,  was  less  to  be  feared  than  its  re- 
•turn  to  the  brain.  Very  carefully  and  tenderly  they  watched 
her,  and  had  not  Mr.  Delafield  been  Blinded  by  her  supposed 
love  for  another,  he  must  have  seen  how  much  more  readily 
she  took  things  from  him  than  from  Doctor  Clayton,  follow 
ing  him  with  her  eyes  whenever  he  moved  away,  and  seeming 
\  much  more  quiet  when  he  was  at  her  side.  By  the  close  of 
the  third  day  she  was  nearly  free  from  the  brain  fever,  but 
much  fear  was  felt  by  Doctor  Clayton  lest  it  should  assume 
the  typhoid  form,  which  it  did  ere  long,  and  then  for  three 
weeks  she  raved  in  wild  delirium,  driving  Richard  Delafield 
from  her  presence,  shuddering  when  he  came  near,  and  beg 
ging  of  Doctor  Clayton,  whom  she  called  her  brother  Charlie* 
"  to  send  the  black  man  with  his  ugly  face  away*" 


MEADOW    BROOK.  211 

This  state  of  affairs  was  almost  intolerable  to  Richard,  who, 
if  he  had  loved'  Rosa  before,  felt  that  she  was  tenfold  dearer 
to  him  now,  and  so,  -though  he  dared  not  come  in  her  sight 
when  awake,  he  watched  by  her  when  she  slept,  standing  over 
her  hour  after  hour,  and  enduring  with  almost  superhuman 
strength  the  care  which  Doctor  Clayton  could  hardly  be  saM 
to  share,  so  absoibed  was  he  in  grief  at  the  thought  of  losing 
her  at  last.  Thus  the  days  wore  on  until  her  frenzy  abated, 
and  she  sunk  into  a  state  of  apathy  from  which  nothing  could 
'rouse  her,  not  even  the  sight  of  Richard  Delafield,  from 
jwhom  she  no  longer  shrunk,  but  for  whom  she  seemed  to 
have  conceived  a  kind  of  pity,  asking  him  sometimes  "  if  he 
hated  her  because  she  did  not  love  him,  and  telling  him  how 
hard  she  had  tried  to  do  so,  but  could  not,  and  that  he  must 
go  away  and  leave  her  alone!"  And  all  this  while  it  never 
occurred  to  him  that  she  fancied  lie  was  Doctor  Clayton, 
though  he  did  marvel  at  her  never  mentioning  her  affianced 
husband,  in  whose  arms  she  would  fall  asleep,  and  whose 
hands  she  would  kiss,  calling  him  Charlie,  and  asking  if  he 
had  come  to  carry  her  home. 

Matters  were  in  this  state  when  one  day,  toward  the  dusk 
of  evening,  he  was  surprised  by  the  appearance  of  Halbert, 
who  said  that  the  cholera  had  broken  out  at  The  Pines,  and 
he  must  come  immediately,  adding  further,  that  his  mother 
and  Ada  had  both  had  it;  that  several  of  the  blacks  'were  dead; 
and  that  the  man  who  two  days  before  had  been  sent  to  Cedar 
Grove,  had  died  upon  the  road.  Greatly  alarmed  for  the 
safety  of  his  people,  Mr.  Delafield  started  at  once  for  The 
Pines,  whither,  in  another  chapter,  we  will  follow  him. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE   ANGEL   OF   THE   PINES. 

THE  unexpected  arrival  of  their  master's  sister  and  her  cor*. 
tege  at  The  Pines,  as  Mr.  Delafield' s  plantation  was  called, 
produced  quite  a  sensation  among  the  blacks,  who  hastened  to- 
receive  their  guests  with  many  demonstrations  of  joy  rather 
more  affected  than  real,  for  Mrs.  Lansing  was  not  very  popu 
lar  with  them.  Halbert  and  Jessie,  on  the  contrary,  were 
general  favorites  among  the  servants,  who  thought  them  little 
less  than  angels,  particularly  Jessie,  who,  with  her  sweet 
young  face,  laughing  eyes,  and  wavy  hair,  flitted  like  a  sun 
beam  from  cabin  to  cabin,  asking  after  thio  old  Aunty  or 
that  uld  Uncle,  and  screaming  with  delight  when  in  one  hut 
she  found  three  babies,  all  of  an  age*  and  belonoinsr  to  the 


MEADOW    BROOK. 

same  mother,  who  boasted  of  having  given  to  her  master 
"  fifteen  as  likely  girls  and  boys  as  there  were  in  Georgy." 

As  yet  the  triplets  had  no  names;  but  the  arrival  of  the 
family  suggested  a  new  idea  to  Hannah,  who,  seating  herseli 
by  Jessie,  proposed  that  they  be  called  "  Richard  Delafield, 
Ada  Montrose,  and  Jessie  Lansing." 

With  the  first  and  last  the  little  girl  was  well  pleased,  but 
she  objected  to  the  middle  name,  and  taking  one  of  the  infants 
upon  her  lap,  she  told  the  story  of  her  beloved  teacher,  who 
was  dying  at  Cedar  Grove,  and  asked  that  the  child  she  held4 
might  be  called  for  her.  So,  baptized  by  Jessie's  tears,  whicbt 
fell  like  rain  upon  its  dark  and  wrinkled  face,  the  babe  was 
christened  Rosa  Lee. 

The  house  which  Mrs.  Lansing  termed  her  country  resi 
dence — for  she  always  spoke  of  her  brother's  possessions  as  her 
own — was  a  large  double  log  building,  containing  nothing 
very  elegant  in  the  way  of  furniture,  but  still  presenting  an 
air  of  neatness  and  comfort;  for  Aunt  Dinah,  who  had  charge 
of  it,  prided  herself  upon  keeping  it  neat  and  clean,  as  her 
master  was  likely  to  come  upon  her  at  any  time  without  warn 
ing,  and  she  liked  to  impress  him  with  her  rare  qualifications 
as  housekeeper.  With  Mrs.  Lansing,  however,  she  was  less 
pleased;  but  still,  as  the  sister  of  "  Mars' r  Richard,"  she  was 
entitled  to  consideration,  and  now  in  high  turban  and  all  the 
dignity  of  her  position,  the  old  lady  bustled  about  from  room 
to  room,  jingling  her  keys,  kicking  the  dogs,  cuffing  the 
wo9lly  pate  of  any  luckless  wight  who  chanced  to  be  in  her 
way,  and  occasionally  stooping  down  to  kiss  little  Jessie,  who, 
being  of  rather  a  domestic  turn,  followed  her  from  place  to 
place,  herself  assisting  in  spreading  the  supper-table,  which, 
with  its  snowy  cloth,  corn  cake,  iced  milk,  hot  coffee,  and 
smoking  steaks,  soon  presented  a  mos.t  inviting  aspect. 

Relieved  of  their  fears  and  thinking  themselves  beyond  the 
reach  of  danger,  Mrs.  Lansing  and  Ada  gave  themselves  up  to 
the  enjoyment  of  the  hour,  talking  and  laughing  gayly,  with 
out  a  thought  of  the  sick  girl  they  had  left  behind,  and  who 
that  night  was  to  have  been  a  bride.     Once,  indeed,  when  j 
after  sunset  they  were  assembled  upon  the  rude  piazza,  Ada  • 
spoke  of  her,  wondering  if  she  were  dead,  and  how  long  it 
would  be  ere  Doctor  Clayton  would  marry  another.     Such  is 
the  world,  to  which  Ada'  formed  no  exception,  for  how  often 
do  we  hear  the  future  companion  of  a  broken-hearted  man 
selected  even  before  the  wife  of  his  bosom  is  removed  forever 
from  his  sight. 
s  for  a  long  time  Mrs  Lansing  sat  there  with  Ada  and  he? 


MilADOW    BROOK. 

children,  talking  on  indifferent  subjects  and  occasionally  con 
gratulating  herself  that  they  were  beyond  reach  of  the  fever, 
unless,  indeed,  Jessie  had  contracted  it  by  her  foolish  careless 
ness.  On  her  lap  rested  the  little  golden  head  of  the  child, 
who  was  humming  snatches  of  "  The  Happy  Land/'  a  favor- 
^e  song  which  her  uncle  had  taught  her,  and  which  she  had 
often  sung  with  her  teacher,  asking  numerous  questions  con 
cerning  the  better  world,  where 

"  Saints  in  glory  stand, 
Bright,  bright  as  day," 

and  wondering  if,  when  she  died,  Jesus  would  take  her  thei'3 
to  sing: 

"Worthy  is  our  Saviour  King." 

Very  naturally  now  her  thoughts  reverted  to  her  govern 
ess,  and  as  she  listened  to  the  whispering  wind  sighing 
through  the  trees,  she  fancied  it  was  the  voice  of  Rosa  bidding 
her  "  come  to  the  happy  land.' '  Sweet  little  Jessie,  it  was 
the  voices  of  angel  children  which  you  heard  thus  calling 
through  the  pines;  for  from  their  shining  ranks  one  beauteous 
form  was  missing,  and  they  would  fain  allure  it  back  to  its 
native  sky. 

Come  I  now  to  the  saddest  part  of  my  story.  Beneath  the 
evergreens  of  the  sunny-  South  is  a  little  mound,  over  which 
the  shining  stars  keep  watch,  and  the  cypress  spreads  its  long 
green  boughs,  while  the  children  of  the  plantation,  dark- 
browed  though  they  are,  tread  softly  near  that  grave,  which 
they  daily  strew  with  flowers,  speaking  in  low  tones  of  "  the 
Angel  of  The  Pines/'  as  they  term  the  fair  young  girl  who 
passed  so  suddenly  from  their  midst.  It  was  now  nearly  five 
weeks  since  Mrs.  Lansing  had  fled  from  the  pestilence  which 
-  valked  at  noonday,  and  though  it  had  in  a  measure  abated  in 
vhe  village,  there  were  vstill  frequent  cases,  and  she  would  not 
'have  deemed  it  safe  to  return,  even  if  typhoid  fever,  which 
she  feared  pearly  as  much,  had  not  been  in  her  own  house. 
So  there  was  no  alternative,  but  to  stay,  uncomfortable  though 
she  was,  for  the  weather  was  intensely  hot,  and  she  missed 
many  of  the  luxuries  of  her  home.  Still,  it  was  healthy  there, 
and  this  in  a  measure  reconciled  her  to  remain.  Occasionally, 
it  is  true,  she  heard  rumors  of  the  cholera  on  some  distant 
plantation,  but  it  seldom  visited  the  pine  regions — it  would 
not  come  there;  she  was  sure  of  that;  and  secure  in  this  be 
lief,  she  rested  in  comparative  quiet,  while  each  day  the  heat^ 
became  more  and  more  intense.  The  sun  came  up  red,  fiery,  * 
and  heated  like  a  furnace j  the  clouds  gave  forth  no  rain;  tk. 


$14  -tejq 

brooks  were  dried  up;  the  leaves  withered  upon  tna  i 
while  the  air  was  full  of  humming  insects,  which  at  night  fed 
upon  their  helpless,  sleeping  victims. 

At  the  close  of  one  of  these  scorching,  sultry  days,  Mrs. 
Lansing  and  Ada  sat  upon  the  piazza,  panting  for  a  breath  o* 
pure,  cool  air.     At  the  side  of  each  stood  a  negro  girl,  inch 
triously  fanning  their  mistresses,  who  scolded  them  as  if  ; 
were  to  blame,  because  the  air  thus  set  in  motion  was  hoi  « 
burning  as  the  winds  which  blow  over  the  great  deseri  , 
Sahara.     As  they  sat  there  thus,  an  old  man  came  up  from 
the  negro  quarters,  saying  "  his  woman  done  got  sick  wid  de 
cramps,"  and  he  wished      his  mistis  jest  come  down  see  her." 

But  Mrs.  Lansing  felt  herself  too  languid  for  exertion  of 
any  kind,  and  telling  Uncle  Abel  that  she  herself  was -fully "as 
sick  as  his  wife,  who  was  undoubtedly  feigning,  she  sent  him 
back  with  a  sinking  heart  to  the  rude  cabin,  where  his  old 
wife  lay,  groaning  aloud  whenever  the  cramps,  as  she  termed 
them,  seized  her.  Scarcely,  however,  had  he  entered  the  low 
door- way,  when  a  fairy  form  came  flitting  down  the  narrow 
pathway,  her  white  dress  gleaming  through  the  dusky  twi 
light,  and  her  golden  hair  streaming  out  behind.  It  was  little 
Jessie,  who,  from  her  crib,  had  heard  her  mother's  refusal  to 
accompany  Uncle  Abel,  and,  stealing  away  unobserved,  she 
had  come  herself  to  see  Aunt  Chloe,  with  whom  «he  was  quite 
a  favorite. 

Unaccustomed  as  Jessie  was  to  sickness,  she  saw  at  a  glance 
that  this  was  no  ordinary  case,  and,  kneeling  down  beside  the 
Degress,  who  lay  upon  the  floor,  she  took  her  head  upon  her 
lap,  and  gently  pushing  back,  beneath  the  gay  turban,  the 
matted,  grizzly  hair,  she  asked  where  the  pain  was. 

"  Bress  de  sweet  chile,"  answered  Chloe,  "  you  can't  tache 
me  with  the  pint  of  a  cambric  needle  what  Hain't,  and  seems 
ef  ebery  jint  in  me  was  onsoderin'  when  de  cramp  is  on." 

As  if  to  verify  the  truth  of  this  remark,  she  suddenly  bent 
up  nearly  double,  and  rolling  upon  her  face,  groaned  aloud. 
At  this  moment  a  negro,  who  had  gained  some  notoriety 
among  his  companions  as  a  physician,  came  in,  and  after  look 
ing  a  moment  at  the  prostrate  form  of  Chloe,  who  was  now 
vomiting  freely,  he  whispered  a  word  which  cleared  the  cabin 
in  a  moment,  for  the  mention  of  "  cholera  "  had  a  power  to 
curdle  the  blood  of  the  terrified  blacks,  who  fled  to  their  own 
dwellings,  where  they  cried  aloud,  and  praying,  some  of  them. 
"  that  de  Lord  would  have  mercy  on  'em/  and  take  somebody 
else  to  kingdom  come,  ef  He  must  have  a  nigger  any  way." 

Utterly  fearless,  Jessie  stayed  on*  and  when  John,  or  as  &€ 


MEADOW    BROOK.  215 

#as  more  familiarly  known,  "  Doctor/'  proposed  going  for 
aer  mother,  she  answered,  "  No,  no;  Uncle  Abel  has  been 
for  her  once,  but  she  won't  come;  and  if  she  knows  it  is 
cholera,  she'll  take  me  away." 

This  convinced  the  Doctor,  who  proceeded  to  put  in  prac 
tice  the  medical  skill  which  he  had  picked  up  at  intervals,  and 
which  was  considerable  for  one  of  his  capacity.  By  this  time, 
a  few  of  the  women  more  daring  than  the  rest  and  curious 
to  know  the  fate  of  their  companion,  ventured  near  the  door, 
where  they  stood  gazing  wonderingly  upon  the  poor  old  creat-, 
are  who  was  fast  floating  out  upon  the  broad  river  of  death. 
It  was  a  most  violent  attack,  and  its  malignity  was  increased 
by  a  quantity  of  unripe  fruit  which  she  had  eaten  that  morn^ 
ing. 

'*  Will  somebody  make  a  pra'r?"  she  said,  feebly,  as  sha 
felt  her  life  fast  ebbing  away.  "  Abel,  you  pray  for  poor 
Chloe;"  and  her  glassy  eyes  turned  beseechingly  toward  her 
husband,  who  was  noted  at  camp-meetings  for  praying  the 
loudest  and  longest  of  any  one. 

But  his  strength  had  left  him  now,  and  kissing  the  shriveled 
face  of  his  dying  wife,  he  said,  "  'Scuse  me,  Chloe;  de  sperrit 
is  willm',  but  de  flesh  part  is  mighty  weak  an'  shaky  like. 
Miss  Jessie,  you  pray!"  ne  continued,  as  the  child  came  to  his 
side. 

"  Yes,  honey,  pray,"  gasped  Chloe;  and,  kneeling  aown, 
the  little  girl  began  the  Lord's  Prayer,  occasionally  inter 
spersing  it  with  a  petition  that  "  God  would  take  the  depart 
ing  soul  to  heaven." 

"Yes,  dat's  it,"  whispered  -Chloe;  "  dat's  better  dan  at! 
dem  fine  words  'bout  kingdom  come  an'  daily  bread;  dey'L; 
do  for  white  folks,  but  God  bress  old  Chloe,  de  thing  for  nig 
gers  to  die  on." 

"  Sing,  honey,  sing,"  she  said,  at  last;  and,  mingled  with 
the  lamentations  of  the  blacks,  there  arose  on  the  evening  air 
the  soft  notes  of  the  "Happy  Land,"  which  Jessie  sung, 
bending  low  toward  Chloe,  who,  when  the  song  was  ended, 
clasped  her  in  her  arms,  and  calling  her  "  a  shinin'  angel," 
went,  we  trust,  to  the  better  land,  where  bondage  is  un 
known  and  the  slave  is  equal  to  his  master. 

Loud  and  shrill  rose  the  wail  of  the  negroes,  increasing  in 
violence  when  it  was  known  that  into  another  cabin  the  pesti- 
3bnce  had  entered,. prostrating  a  boy,  who,  in  his  agony,  called 
for  Jessie  and  Mars'r  Richard,  thinking  they  could  save  him. 
Late  as  it  was,  Mrs.  Lansing,  Ada,  and  Lina  were  still  upon 
the  piazza,  which  was  far  morp  comfortable  than  their  sleep- 


MEADOW    BROOK:. 

ing-room,  where  they  supposed  both  Halbert  and  Jessie  were 
safely  in  bed.  They  were  just  thinking  of  retiring,  when 
suddenly  the  midnight  stillness  was  broken  by  a  cry  so  shrill 
that  Mrs.  Lansing  started  to  her  feet,  asking  what  it  was. 

From  her  couch  by  the  open  door  Aunt  Dinah  arose,  and 
going  out  a  few  rods,  listened  to  the  sound,  which  seemed  to 
.come  from  the  negro  quarters,  whither,  at  her  mistress's  com 
mand,  she  bent  her  steps.  But  a  short  time  elapsed  ere  she 
returned  with  the  startling  news  that  "  the  cholera  was  thar; 
that  Chloe  was  dead,  and  another  had  got  it  and  was  '  vomuck- 
ing  '  all  over  the  night-dress  of  Miss  Jessie,  who  was  holdinjl 
his  head." 

Wholly  overcome  with  fright,  Mrs.  Lansing  fainted,  and 
was  borne  to  her  room,  where,  for  a  time,  she  remained  un 
conscious,  forgetful  of  Jessie,  who  stayed  at  the  quarter  long 
after  midnight,  ministering  to  the  wants  of  the  sick,  of  which, 
before  morning,  there  were  five,  while  others  showed  symp 
toms  of  the  rapidly  spreading  disease.  As  soon  as  Mrs.  Lan 
sing  returned  to  consciousness  she  sent  for  Jessie,  who  came 
reluctantly,  receiving  her  mother's  reproof  in  silence,  and 
falling  away  to  sleep  as  calmly  as  if  she  had  not  just  been 
looking  upon  death,  whose  shadow  was  over  and  around  her. 

Early  the  next  morning,  a  man  was  sent  in  haste  to  Cedar 
Grove,  which  he  never  reached,  for  the  destroyer  met  him  on 
the  road,  and  in  one  of  the  cabins  of  a  neighboring  plantation, 
he  died,  forgetting,  in  the  intensity  of  his  sufferings,  the  er 
rand  on  which  he  had  been  sent;  and  as  those  who  attended 
him  knew  nothing  of  Mrs.  Landing's  being  at  The  Pines,  it 
was  not  until  the  second  day  after  the  appearance  of  the 
cholera  that  she  learned  the  fate  of  her  servant.  In  a  state 
bordering  almost  upon  distraction,  she  waited  for  her  brother, 
shuddering  with  fear  whenever  a  new  case  was  reported  to 
her,  and  refusing  to  visit  the  sufferers,  although  among  thorn 
vvere  some  who  had  played  with  her  in  childhood;  and  one,  an 
old  gray-haired  man,  who  had  saved  her  from  a  watery  grave 
when  on  the  Savannah  River  she  had  fallen  overboard.  But 
there  was  no  place  for  gratitude  in  her  selfish  heart,  and  the 
miserable  creatures  were  left  to  die  alone,  uncheered  by  the 
presence  of  a  pale  face,  save  little  Jessie,  who  won  her  moth 
er's  reluctant  -consent  to  be  with  them,  and  who,  all  the  day 
long,  went  from  cabin  to  cabin,  soothing  the  sick  and  dying 
by  her  presence,  and  emboldening  others  by  her  own  in- 
trepidity. 

Toward  sunset,  Mrs.  Lansing  herself  was  seized  with  the 
malady,  and  with  a  wild  shriek  she  called  on  Ada  to  help  her; 


MEADOW    BROOK. 

but  that  young  lady  was  herself  too  much  intimidated  to  heed 
the  call,  and  in  an  adjoining  room  she  sat  with  camphor  at 
her  nose  and  brandy  at  her  side  untjl  a  fierce,  darting  pain 
warned  her  that  she,  too,  was  a  victim.  No  longer  afraid  of 
Mrs.  Lansing,  she  made  no  resistance  when  borne  to  the  same 
apartment,  where  for  hours  they  lay,  bemoaning  the  fate 
which  had  brought  them  there,  and  trembling  as  they  thought 
of  the  probable  result. 

On  Mrs.  Lansing's  mind  there  was  a  heavy  load,  and  once, 
when  the  cold  perspiration  stood  thickly  upon  her  face,  she 
ordered  Jessie  and  Dinah  from  the  room,  while  she  confessed 
to  Ada  the  sin  of  which  she  had  been  guilty  in  deceiving  both 
her  brother  and  Rosa. 

"  It  was  a  wicked  falsehood,"  said  she,  "  and  if  you  survive 
me,  you  must  tell  them  so — will  you?" 

Ada  nodded  in  token  that  she  would;  and  then,  thinking 
how  her  own  conscience  might  be  made  easier  by  a  similar 
confession,  she  told  how  she  had  thought  to  injure  Rosa  in 
Mr.  Delafield's  estimation,  and  also  of  the  blister,  which  had 
drawn  on  Hagar's  back  instead  of  her  own.  This  done,  the 
two  ladies  felt  greatly  relieved;  and  as  the  cholera  in  their 
case  had  been  induced  mostly  by  fear,  it  began  ere  long  to 
yield  to  the  efficient  treatment  of  Dinah,  who  to  her  house 
keeping  qualities  added  that  of  being  a  skillful  nurse.  To 
ward  morning  they  were  pronounced  decidedly  better,  and  as 
Jessie  was  asleep  and  Dinah  nodding  in  her  chair,  Mrs.  Lan 
sing  lifted  her  head  from  her  pillow,  saying  to  Ada,  "  If  you 
please,  you  needn't  tell  what  I  told  you  last  night,  when  I 
thought  I  was  going  to  die!" 

Ada  promised  to  be  silent,  and  after  winning  a  similar 
promise  from  Mrs.  Lansing,  they  both  fell  asleep,  nor  woke 
again  until  the  sun  was  high  up  in  the  heavens.  So  much  for 
a  sick-bed  repentance ! 

That  day  was  hotter  and  more  sultry  than  any  which  had 
preceded  it;  and  about  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  little  Jes 
sie  came  to  DTnah's  side,  and  laying  her  head  upon  her  lap, 
complained  of  being  both  cold  and  tired..  Blankets  were* 
wrapped  round  her,  but  they  brought  to  her  no  warmth,  for^ 
her  blood  was  chilled  by  approaching  de^th,  and  when  at  dusk 
the  negroes  asked  why  she  came  not  among  them,  they  were 
told  that  she  was  dying!  With  streaming  eyes  they  fell  upon 
their  knees,  and  from  those  humble  cabins  there  went  up 
many  a  fervent  prayer  for .  (rod  to  spare  the  child.  But  it 
could  not  be;  she  was  wanted  in  heaven;  and  when  old  Uncle 
AbeL  who  had  also  been  ill,  crept  on  his  hands  and  knees  to 


218  MEADOW    BROOK. 

her  bedside,  calling  upon  her  name,  she  did  not  know  him, 
for  unconsciousness  was  upon  her,  and  in  infinite  mercy  she 
was  spared  the  pain  usually  attendant  upon  the  disease. 

Almost  bereft  of  reason  and  powerless  to  act,  Mrs.  Lansing 
sat  by  her  child,  whose  life  was  fast  ebbing  away.  In  a  short 
time  all  the  negroes,  who  were  able,  had  come  to  the  house, 
their  dark  faces  stained  with  tears  and  expressive  of  the  ut 
most  concern,  as  they  looked  upon  the  little  girl  who  lay  so 
white  and  still,  with  her  fair  hair  floating  over  the  pillow  and 
her  waxen  hands  folded  upon  her  bosom. 

"  Sing  to  me,  Uncle  Dick,"  she  said,  at  last,  "  sing  of  the 
happy  land  not  far  away;"  but  Uncle  Dick  was  not  there, 
and  they  who  watched  her  wer€  too  much  overcome  with 
grief  to  need  her  request. 

Slowly  the  hours  wore  on,  and  the  spirit  was  almost  home, 
when  again  she  murmured,  "  Sing  of  the  happy  land;"  and 
as  if  in  answer  to  her  prayer,  the  breeze,  which  all  the  day 
long  had  been  hushed  and  still,  now  sighed  mournfully 
through  the  trees,  while  a  mocking-bird  in  the  distance  struck 
up  his  evening  lay,  and  amid  the  gushing  melody  of  that 
wondrous  bird  of  song  and  the  soft  breathing  notes  of  the 
whispering  pines,  little  Jessie  passed  to  the  "  happy  land  " 
which  to  those  who  watched  the  going  out  of  her  short  life 
seemed  indeed  "  not  far  away." 

With  a  bitter  cry  the  bereaved  mother  fell  upon  her  face 
and  wept  aloud,  saying,  in  her  heart,  "My  God,  my  God, 
why  have  I  thus  been  dealt  with?" 

In  the  distance  was  heard  the  sound  of  horses'  feet,  and  ero 
long  her  brother  was  with  her,  weeping  as  only  strong  men 
weep  over  the  lifeless  form  which  returned  him  no  answering 
oaress.  She  had  been  his  idol,  and  for  a  moment  he,  too, 
questioned  the  justice  of  God  in  thus  afflicting  him. 

"  Jessie  is  gone,  Rosa  is  going,  and  I^shall  be  left  alone,5* 
he  thought.  "  What  have  I  done  to  deserve  a  chastisement- 
like  this?" 

Soon,  however,  he  grew  calmer,  and  saying,  "It  is  well/ 
he  tenderly  kissed  the  lips  and  brow  of  the  beautiful  child, 
who  seemed  to  smile  on  him  even  in  death;  then  going  out 
among  his  people,  he  comforted  them  as  best  he  could,  drop 
ping  more  than  one  tear  to  the  memory  of  those  who 
were  dead,  and  who  numbered  eight  in  all.  At  a  short  dis 
tance  from  the  house  was  a  tall  cypress  where  Jessie  had  often 
sported,  and  where  now  was  a  play-house,  built  by  her  hands 
but  a  few  days  before.  There,  by  the  light  of  the  a1  very 
moon,  the*-  made  her  grave,  and  when  the  son  was  m*  't» 


MEADOW    BROOK.  19 

rays  fell  upon  the  pile  of  earth  which  hid  from  view  the  sunny 
face  a,nd  soft  blue  eyes  of  Jessie,  "  the  Angel  of  The  Pines."' 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

RETURN". 

FOR  nearly  a  week  after  Jessie's  chath,  Mr.  Delafield  re 
mained  at  The  Pines,  doing  whatever  he  could  for  the  com* 
fort  of  his  servants,  and  as  at  the  end  of  that  time  the  disease 
„  had  wholly  disappeared,  he  returned  to  Cedar  Grove,  accom- 
jpanied  by  his  sister  and  Ada,  who  had  learned  by  sad  experi- 
'ence  that  the  dangers  from  which  we  flee  are  oftentimes  less 
than  those  to  which  we  go.  They  found  Eosa  better,  but  still 
quite  low,  and  as  the  fever  had  not  entirely  left  her,  neither 
Mrs.  Lansing  nor  Ada  ventured  near  her  room,  but  shut 
themselves  in  their  own  apartment,  where  the  former  received 
the  sympathy  of  her  friends,  which  in  this  case  was  truly  sin 
cere,  for  Jessie  was  universally  beloved,  and  the  tidings  of  her 
death  carried  sorrow  to  many  hearts. 

Over  Doctor  Clayton  a  change  had  come.  The  hopeful, 
happy  expression  of  his  face  was  gone,  and  in  its  place  was  a 
look  of  utter  hopelessness  which  at  first  roused  Richard's  fears 
lest  Rosa  should  be  worse,  and  in  much  alarm  he  asked  if  it 
were  so. 

"  No,  no,"  answered  the  doctor,  while  a  shadow  of  pain 
passed  over  his  handsome  features;  "  she  will  live." 

Then  hurrying  to  the  window,  he  looked  out  to  hide  his 
tears  from  him  whom  he  knew  to  be  his  rival,  and  who,  now 
that  he  was  unobserved,  bent  over  the  sleeping  Rosa,  kissing 
her  wasted  cheek  and  mourning  for  her  as  he  thought  how  she 
would  weep  when  she  learned  the  fate  of  her  favorite.  Oh, 
could  he  have  known  the  whole,  how  passionately  would  he 
have  clasped  her  to  his  bosom  and  held  her  there  as  his  own, 
his  darling  Rosa!  But  it  was  not  yet  to  be,  and  he  must  bide 
his  time. 

She  had  seemed  greatly  relieved  at  his  absence,  and  on  the 
-second  day  after  his  departure,  she  called  Doctor  Clayton  to 
er  side,  fancying  him  to  be  her  brother  Charlie.  Taking  his 
^nd  in  hers/ she  told  him  the  whole  story  of  her  trials;  how 
,:ie  had  tried  to  bring  back  the  old  affection  of  her  childhood, 
but  could  not  because  of  the  love  sne  had  for  Richard  Dela 
field. 

"'Oh,  Charlie,"  she  exclaimed,  "he  would  forgive  me,  I 
,v,  if  he  knew  how  much  I  suffered  during  those  terrible 
-~ys,  when  I  thought  of  giving  my  hand  without  my  hean* 


220  MEADOW    BKOOK. 

The  very  idea  sot  my  brain  on  fire,  and  my  head  has  ached? 
oh,  so  hard,  since  then;  but  it's  over  now,  for  I  conquered  a/3 
last*  and  on  the  night  before  the  wedding  I  resolved  to  tell 
him  I  could  not  and  would  not  marry  him.  But  a  dark  cloud, 
Which  seemed  like  the  rushing  of  mighty  waters,  came  over 
me,  and  I  don't  know  where  I  am,  nor  what  has  happened, 
only  lie  has  been  heie,  hanging  like  a  shadow  over  my  pillow, 
where  sat  another  shadow  tenfold  blacker,  which  he  said  was 
Death;  but  grim  and  hideous  as  it  was,  I  preferred  it  to  a  life/ 
with  him,  when  my  whole  soul  was  given  to  another.  He^ 
too,  was  here  occasionally,  and  in  his  presence  the  shadow 
grew  less  and  less,  while  his  voice  called  me  back  from  the 
desp  darkness  in  which  I  was  groping.  Once,  when  I  was 
almost  home,  so  near  that  I  heard  the  song  which  little  Jamie 
sings — Jamie,  who  died  so  long  ago— he  laid  his  cool  hand 
upon  my  forehead,  which  was  wet  with  the  waters  of  the  roll 
ing  river,  and  I  heard  him  say  to  some  one,  '  Look  up;  she  is 
better,  she  will  live.'  The  next  moment  he  was  gone,  but  I 
struggled  with  the  waves  and  floated  back  to  the  shore,  where, 
though  I  could  not  see  him,'Jiis  hand  was  stretched  out  to 
save  me,  and  for  a  time  he  stood  between  me  and  Doctor  Clay* 
ton,  who,  when  he  thought  nobody  heard  him,  .whispered  in 
my  ear,  *  my  bride — my  own.'  But  from  my  inmost  soul  I 
answered,  '  Never,  never,'  while  I  looked  again  toward  the 
river  which  is  still  in  sight,  though  slowly  receding  from 
view." 

She  paused  a  moment  and  then  continued:  "When  lam 
dead,  Charlie,  you  must  tell  him  how  it  was,  and  ask  him  to 
forgive  and  think  with  pity  of  poor  little  Rosa,  who  would 
have  loved  him  if  she  could.  If  he  will  not  listen — if  he  still 
persists  in  marrying  me,  tell  him  I  would  rather  die  ten  thou 
sand  deaths  than  wed  a  man  I  do  not  love,  and  then  his  pride 
will  come  to  his  aid.  But  not  a  word  of  this  to  Mr.  Delafield, 
Charlie;  never  let  him  know  how  I  loved  him.  My  affection*: 
is  not  returned,  and  he  would  despise  me — would  never  visit 
my  grave  or  think  with  pity  of  one  who  died  so  far  away  from 
home." 

Then  followed  a  message  for  the  loved  ones  of  Meador/ 
Brook;  but  this  Doctor  Clayton  did  not  hear.     Perfectly  par 
alyzed,  he  had  listened  to  her  story  until  his  reason  seenir- 
danger  of  leaving  him,"  and  long  ere  she  had  finished  he  knew 
he  must  give  her  up,  but  not  to  death;  and  as  Richard  Dela 
field  had  done,  so  he,  in  this  his  hour  of  bitter  trial,  felt  how 
much  rather  he  would  see  her  in  her  coffin  than  the  wife  of 
another.     Then  in  his  ear  the  tempter  whispered:  "  Why  need  ;^ 


MEADOW    BROOR. 

these  things  be?  She  Is  not  yet  out  of  danger.  A  little 
relaxation  of  care  on  your  part,  and  Richard  Delafield  will 
never  call  her  his." 

Only  for  a  moment,  however,  did  Doctor  Clayton  listen, 

and  then  laying  his  head  upon  the  pillow  beside  that  of  Rose, 

who,  wearied  with  her  story,  had  fallen  asleep,  he  wept  as  he 

jiad  never  wept  before,  not  even  when  he  saw  creeping  over 

lief  the  shadow  of  death.     Turn  which  way  he  would,  there 

fe/as  naught  before  him  save  the  darkness  of  despair;  and  as 

wave  after  wave  broke  over  him,  his  mind  went  backward  to 

the  time  when  she  might  have  been  his — when  he  could  have 

gathered  her  to  his  bosom — and  in  piteous  accents  he  cried 

aloud,  "  My  punishment  is  greater  than  I  can  bear." 

But  as  the  fiercest  storm  soonest  expends  its  fury,  so  he  ere 
long  grew  calm  and  capable  of  sober,  serious  thought.  Rosa 
Lee  was  very  dear  to  him,  and  to  have  possessed  her  love  he 
would  have  given  almost  everything;  but  as  that  could  not  be, 
ought  he  to  stand  in  the  way  of  her  happiness?  He  knew  she 
was  deceived,  for  he  remembered  many  things  he  had  seen  in 
Mr.  Delafield,  which,  though  he  had  not  thought  of  it  then, 
convinced  him  now  that  her  affection  was  reciprocated;  and 
should  he  not* tell  her  so,  and  at  the  same  time  disclose  to 
Richard  the  true  state  of  affairs?  Rosa's  quiet,  unobtrusive, 
and  rather  reserved  manner  had  misled  Richard,  no  doubt, 
or  he  would  long  ere  this  have  declared  his  love. 

"  Yes,  God  helping  me,  I  will  do  right,"  he  said  aloud, 
clasping  his  hands  over  his  feverish  brow.  "  I  will  watch  by 
her  until  Ms  return,  and  then  committing  her  to  his  care,  I 
will  leave  her  forever." 

There  was  a  movement  at  his  side — Rosa  was  dreaming,  and 
she  uttered  the  name  of  Richard,  while,  with  a  shiver,  the 
doctor  stopped  his  ears  and  shut  out  the  hated  sound.  In  a 
unoment  she  awoke  and  asked  for  water.  It  was  brought,  but 
•he  no  longer  supported  her  in  his  arms,  no  longer  smoothed 
back  the  tangled  curls  from  her  brow,  or  kissed  her  white 
lips.  "  She  is  not  mine,  and  it  were  wrong  to  caress  her 
now,"  he  thought,  and  his  tears  fell  upon  her  face  as  he  laid 
her  gently  back  upon  the  pillow.  Wonderingly  she  gazed 
upon  him,  and  lifting  her  hand,  wiped  his  tears  away,  asking 
why  he  wept. 

"  Heaven  help  me  from  going  mad!"  he  exclaimed  aloud, 
as  he  walked  to  the  window,  where  for  a  long  time  he  stood, 
trying  to  school  himself  for  the  part  he  was  to  act. 

He  succeeded  at  last,  and  never  did  a  tender  brother  watch 
more  carefully  over  a  darJUiig  sister  than  did  he  over  her  dur- 


MEADOW   SHOOK:. 

iV'%  the  few  days  which  elapsed  ere  Mr.  Delafield's  reten, 
£  f,e  was  alone  with  her  when  he  came,  and  with  comparative 
ahnness  he  greeted  his  rival,  who,  as  we  have  before  stated^, 
fas  surprised  at  the  change  in  his  looks. 

That  night,  in  the   solitude  of  his  chamber,  the  doctor 
penned  two  letters,  one  for  Rosa  and  the  other  for  Richard. 
In  substance,  the  contents  of  each  were  much  the  same,  for  I 
.ie  told  them  all  he  had  heard  from  Rosa,  and  how,  though  it1 
broke  his  heart  to  do  so,  he  had  given  her  up.     "  Deal  very, 
very  gently  with  her/'  he  wrote  to  Mr.  Delafield,  "  for  never 
was  there  a  purer,  gentler  being,  or  one  more  worthy  of  your 
love  than  she.     Then  take  her,  and  when  your  cup  is  over 
flowing  with  happiness,  think  sometimes  of  one  who  hence 
forth  will  be  a  lonely,  wretched  man." 

The  letters  being  written,  he  put  them  away  until  such 
time  as  he  should  meet  them.  Once  he  thought,  to  talk  with 
Richard  face  to  face;  but  this  he  felt  he  could  not  do;  so  one 
morning,  about  a  week  after  the  return  of  the  family  to  Cedar 
Grove,  and  when  Rosa  was  out  of  danger,  he  pressed  a  burn 
ing  kiss  upon  her  forehead,  and  placing  the  letters  on  the  lit 
tle  dressing  bureau  where  they  would  attract  the  immediate 
attention  of  Mr.  Delafield,  who,  he  knew,  would  soon  be 
there,  he  went  in  quest  of  Mrs.  Lansing,  whom  he  bid  good- 
bve  as  composedly  as  if  no  inward  fire  were  consuming  him. 
In  much  surprise,  she  asked  why  he  left  them  so  abruptly,  and 
he  replied,  ' '  Something  which  has  recently  come  to  my  knowl 
edge  makes  it  necessary  for  me  to  go." 

"  You  will,  of  course,  return  ere  long  for  Miss  Lee?"  con 
tinued  the  lady,  who  had  no  suspicion  of  the  truth. 

"  If  /  do  not  come  I  shall  send  her  brother  as  soon  as  she 
is  able  to  be  moved,"  said  he.  "  She  does  not  know  that  I 
am  going,  for  she  would  not  understand  me  if  I  told  her,  so  I. 
leave  it  with  you  to  tell  her  when  you  think  she  will  compre* 
lend  it." 

Then  leaving  a  few  directions  as  to  how  she  must  be  treat 
ed,  he  hurried  away,  never  looking  back,  and  turning  into  a 
side  street,  when  in  the  distance  he  saw  Mr.  Delafield  coming 
toward  him.  Half  an  hour  afterward  and  the  puffing  engine, 
which  now  each  day  thundered  into  town,  was  bearing  him 
away  from  a  place  whither  he  had  come  for  a  bride,  and  from 
which  he  bore  only  a  crushed  and  aching  heart.  Scarcely  had 
he  left  Rosa's  chamber  when  a  colored  woman  entered  it  to 
'*  set  it  to  rights  "  as  was  her  daily  custom.  She  was  near 
sighted,  and  going  up  to  the  dressing-bureau,  carelessly 
brushed  off  the  letter  directed  to  Richard.  Falling  behind 


MEADOW    BROOK.  223 

fhe  bureau,  it  lay  concealed  from  view,  while  the  negress  pro 
ceeded  with  her  duties,  unconscious  of  the  mischief  she  had 
done. 

In  great  surprise  Richard  heard  of  Doctor  Clayton's  sudden 
departure.  "  There  must  be  something  wrong/'  he  thought, 
though  what  he  did  not  know.  Going  up  to  Rosa's  chamber, 
he  found  her  still  asleep.  The  room  was  in  order,  the  servant 
•gone,  and  on  ths  bureau  lay  the  letter  which  soon  caught  his 
attention.  Glancing  at  the  superscription,  he  saw  it  was  foi- 
ftosa,  and  thinking  to  keep  it  safely  until  she  could  Understand 
\Ls  contents,  he  placed  it  in  his  pocket;  then  taking  a  book, 
ne  sat  by  her  bedside  until  she  awoke.  She  was  apparently 
better,  but  an  unnatural  brightness  of  her  eyes  told  that  her 
mind  was  still  unsettled.  So  he  said  nothing  to  hfer  concern 
ing  the  doctor's  desertion,  but  himself  ministered  to  her 
wants. 

In  the  course  of  a  few  days  Mrs.  Lansing  was  induced  to 
visit  her.  This  she  did  more  willingly,  for  Rosa  had  loved  her 
little  Jessie;  she  would  weep  bitterly  when  she  knew  she  was 
dead;  and  the  proud  nature  of  the  haughty  woman-gave  way 
to  the  softer  feelings,  which  often  prompts  a  mother  to  take 
a  deeper  interest  in  whatever  was  once  dear  to  a  lost,  a  pre 
cious  child.  So  casting  aside  her  nervous  fear,  she  at  last 
went  frequently  to  the  sick-room,  her  own  white,  delicate 
hands  sometimes  arranging  the  tumbled  pillow  or  holding  the 
cooling  draught  to  the  lips  of  her  formerly  despised  governess 
— despised,  not  for  anything  which  she  had  done,  but  because 
it  was  hers  to  labor  for  the  bread  she  eat. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

LIGHT. 

IT  was  early  morning.  The  windows  of  my  room  were 
open,  admitting  the  fresh,  cool  air,  which  had  been  purified 
3y  one  of  those  terrific  thunder-storms  so  common  in  a  south- 
3rn  clime.  For  many  weeks  I  had  lain  there  in  a  state  of  un- 
juiisciousness,  save  at  intervals 'when  I  had  a  dreamy  realiza- 
fion  of  wjiat  was  transpiring  around  me.  The  physician  who 
was  called  in  Doctor  Clayton's  stead  had  more  than  once  hint 
ed  of  continued  insanity,  citing  similar  cases  which  had  come 
under  his  observation;  but  in  spite  of  his  opinion,  I,  that 
bright  August  morning,  awoke  from  a  refreshing  sleep,  with 
perfectly  restored  faculties.  At  first  I  thought  I  was  alone, 
lor  there  was  a  deep  stillness  in  the  room,  and  from  the  h?jl 


MEADOW    BROOK. 

below  I  distinctly  heard  the  ticking  of  the  clock,  reminding 
me  of  the  time,  years  ago,  when  once  before  I  had  hovered 
between  life  and  death.  Now,  as  then,  I  experienced  the  de 
licious  feeling  of  returning  health,  but  I  missed  the  familiar 
faces  of  my  friends,  and  as  I  thought  how  far  I  was  from 
home  and  all  who  loved  me,  I  said  aloud,  "  I  am  alone,, 
alone." 

"Not  alone,  Rosa,  for  /  am  with  you,"  answered  a  deep 
voice  near;  and  the  next  moment  the  dark  form  of  Richard 
Del  afield  bent  over  me. 

Eagerly  scanning  my  face,  he  said,  "  Do  you  know  me?" 

"Yes,"  I  answered.  "Mr.  Delafielcl."  Then  as  a  dim 
remembrance  of  the  past  came  over  me,  I  lifted  my  head  and 
looked  round  the  room  for  one  who  I  knew  had  not  long  since 
been  there. 

Divining  my  thought,  he  said  very  gently,  as  if  the  an 
nouncement  would  of  course  give  me  pain,  "  He  is  not  here, 
Rosa.  He  was  obliged  to  go  home;  but  I  dare  say  he  will 
soon  return;  meantime  I  will  take  care  of  you.  Don't  feel  so 
badly,"  he  continued,  as  tears  of  genuine  joy  at  Doctor  Clay 
ton's  absence  gathered  in  my  eyes. 

I  could  not  tell  him  the  truth;  and  when  I  spoke  it  was  to 
ask  him  concerning  my  illness,  how  long  it  had  been,  etc. 

After  telling  me  all  that  he  thought  proper,  he  took  the 
letter  from  his  pocket,  and  said,  "  Doctor  Clayton  left  this  for 
you.  Have  you  strength  to  read  it  now?" 

"  Yes,  yes,"  I  replied,  eagerly,  at  the  same  time  stretching 
oat  my  hand  to  take  it. 

There  was  a  blur  upon  my  eyes  as  I  read,  and  I  pitied  Doc 
tor  Clayton,  who  had  thus  laid  bare  to- me  his  wretchedness, 
but  mingled  with  this  was  a  feeling  of  relief  to  know  that  I 
was  free.  He  told  me  what  he  had  written  to  Mr.  Delafield, 
and  when  I  came  to  that  portion  of  the  letter,  I  involuntarily 
uttered  an  exclamation  of  delight,  while  I  glanced  timidly 
toward  him.  But  he  made  no  sign.  The  letter  which  would 
have  explained  all  was  safely  lodged  behind  the  bureau,  and 
with  a  gloomy  brow  he  watched  me  while  I  read,  interpreting! 
tny  emotions  into  the  satisfaction  he  naturally  supposed  I 
would  feel  in  hearing  from  my  lover.  With  me  the  revulsion 
was  too  great,  for  I  fancied  I  saw  in  the  expression  of  his  face 
contempt  for  one  who  had  presumed  to  love  him,  and  burst 
ing  into  tears,  I  cried  and  laughed  alternately,  while  he  tried 
to  soothe  me ;  but  I  would  not  be  comforted  by  him — ke 
hated  me,  I  knew,  and  very  pettishly  I  told  him  at  last  "  to 
let  me  alone  and  go  away — 1  was  better  without  him  than 


MEADOW    BROOK,  £2o 

with  him/'  I  said,  "  and  he  would  oblige  me  by  leaving  the 
room/' 

The  next  moment  I  repented  my  harshness,  which  I  knew 
had  caused  him  pain,  for  there  was  a  look  of  sorrow  upon  his 
face  as  he  complied  with  my  request.  But  I  was  too  proud  to 

!1  him  back,  and  for  the  next  half  hour  I  cried^ancl  fretted 

iGTie,  first  at  him  for  making  Doctor  Clayton  think  he  loved 
when  he  didn't;  secondly,  at  Doctor  Clayton  for  meddling 
with  what  didn't  concern  him;  and  lastly,  at  myself,  for  being 
30  foolish  as  to  care  whether  anybody  loved  me  or  not.  At 
$ie  end  of  that  time  Richard  came  back.  The  cloud  had  dis 
appeared,  and  very  good-humoredly  he  asked  "  if  I  had  got 
over  my  pet,  and  if  I  wanted  anything." 

I  did  not,  but  wishing  to  make  amends  for  my  former  ill 
humor,  I  asked  him  to  shut  the  windows,  which  he  did,  open 
ing  them  again  in  less  than  five  minutes,  and  fanning  me  furi 
ously,  I  was  "so  hot  and  fidgety."  For  several  hours  he 
humored  all  my  whims  and  caprices,  and  then,  as  he  saw  1 
was  tiring  myself  out,  he  began  to  exercise  his  authority  over 
me,  telling  me  once,  I  remember,  "  to  lie  still  and  behave,  or 
I  would  make  myself  worse." 

Intimidated  by  his  voice  and  manner,  I  sunk  down  among 
my  pillows,  nor  stirred  again  until  I  awoke  from  a  sweet  sleep 
into  which  I  had  fallen.  This  time  he  was  gone,  but  Mrs. 
Lansing  was  with  me,  and  the  tones  of  her  voice  seemed  un 
usually  kind  as  she  addressed  me.  Richard  again  came  in, 
bearing  a  beautiful  bouquet,  which  he  presented  to  me  "  as  a 
peace  offering,"  he  said,  "  for  having  scolded  me  so  in  the 
morning." 

Before  night  I  was  so  much  better  that  Ada,  Lina,  and 
Halbert  came  in  to  see  me,  each  expressing  their  pleasure  at 
.  my  convalescence.  But  one  there  was  who  came  not  to  greet 
,me,  and  at  whose  absence  I  greatly  marveled.  She  had  ever 
(been  the  first  to  meet  me  in  the  morning,  and  the  last  to  leave 
•/me  at  night.  Why,  then,  did  she  tarry  now,  when  I  wished 
so  much  to  see  her?  Alas!  I  did  not  know  that  never  again 
would  her  home  be  gladdened  by  the  sunshine  of  her  presence., 
for  it  was  Jessie  whom  I  missed — Jessie  for  whom  I  longed — 
straining  my  ear  to  catch  the  sound  of  her  ringing  laugh  or 
bounding  footsteps. 

At  last,  as  the  day  wore  on  and  she  did  not  come,  I  asked 
for  her  and  why  she  staved  so  long  away. 

Wringing  her  hand,  Mrs.  Lansing  exclaimed,  "  Tell  her, 
Richard,  I  can  not.  It  will  kill  me.  Oh,  Jessie,  Jessie!" 

But  I  had  no  need  for  further  knowledge.     I  saw  what  I 


MEADOW    BROOK. 

had  not  before  observed,  viz.,  the  mourning  garments  ot  tho&. 
round  me,  and  in  tears  of  anguish  I  cried.  "  My  darling  i& 
•dead!" 

"  Yes,  Jessie  is  dead,"  answered  Richard.  "  We  shajl 
never  see  her  again,  for  she  is  safe  in  the  happy  land  of  whicJD 
you  so  often  told  her." 

I  could  not  weep.  My  sorrow  was  too  great  for  tears,  an:-1 
covering  my  face,  I  thought  for  a  long,  long  time.  "  Wh, 
was  it,"  I  asked  myself,  "  that  always  wnen  death  hac 
hovered  near  me,  /  had  been  spared  and  another  taken,"  for, 
as  in  the  case  of  Jessie,  so  had  it  been  with  brother  Jamie— 
they  had  died,  while  I  had  lived,  and  with  a  fervent  thanks 
giving  to  Heaven,  which  had  dealt  thus  mercifully  with  me,  I 
prayed  that  it  might  not  be  in  vain. 

Gradually,  as  I  could  bear  it,  Mr.  Del  afield  told  me  the  sad 
story — how  she  had  hung  fearlessly  over  my  pillow  when  all  , 
else  had  deserted  me;  how  she  had  come  for  him;  and  how 
naught  but  her  mother's  peremptory  commands  had  taken 
her  from  my  side.  As  he  talked,  there  came  back  to  me  a 
yague  recollection  of  a  fairy  form — a  seraph  I  thought  it  to 
have  been — which,  when  the  dark  river  was  running  fast  at 
my  feet,  had  hovered  near,  whispering  to  me  words  of  love, 
and  bidding  some  one  bury  me  beneath  the  tall  magnolia. 
Then  he  told  me  how  she  had  stood  like  a  ministering  spirit 
by  the  rude  couch  of  the  poor  Africans,  who  with  their  dying 
breath  had  blessed  her,  calling  her  "  the  Angel  of  The 
Pines."  From  her  head  he  himself  had  shorn  her  beautiful 
shining  curls,  one  of  which  he  gave  to  me,  and  which  I  prize 
as  my  most  precious  treasure;  for  often  as  I  look  upon  it,  I 
see  again  the  little  gleeful  girl,  my  "  Georgia  rose,"  who  for 
a  brief  space  dwelt  within  her  fair  Southern  home,  and  was 
then  transplanted  to  her  native  soil,  where  now  she  blooms, 
the  fairest,  sweetest  flower  of  all  which  deck  the  fields  of '[ 
heaven. 

The  shock  of  her  death  very  naturally  retarded  my  recov 
ery,  and  for  many  weeks  more  was  I  confined  to  my  room. 
About  the  middle  o,f  October,  Charlie,  whose  coming  I  had 
long  expected,  arrived,  bringing  to  me  the  sad  news  that 
death  had  again  entered  our  household,  that  by  my  father's 
and  Jamie's  grave  was  another  mound,  and  at  home  another 
vacant  chair,  that  of  my  aged  grandmother,  whose  illness,  he 
said,  had  prevented  him  from  coming  to  me  sooner,  adding 
further  that  they  had  purposely  kept  her  sickness  from  me, 
fearing  the  effect  it  might  nave.  Of  Doctor  Clayton  he  could 
tell  me  but  little.  IJe  had  not  visited  Meadow  Brook  at  aU| 


1  MEADOW    BROOK. 

but  immediately  after  his  return  to  Boston  he  had  written  to 
them,  saying  I  was  out  of  danger,  and  Charlie  must  go  foi 
me  as  soon  as  the  intense  heat  of  summer  was  over.  This 
was  all  they  knew,  though  with  woman's  ready  tact,  both  my 
mother  and  my  sisters  conjectured  that  something  was 
wrong,  and  Charlie's  first  question  after  telling  me  what  he 
did,  was  to  inquire  into  the  existing  state  of  affairs  between 
me  and  the  doctor,  and  if  it  were  my  illness  ^  alone  which  had 
deferred  the  marriage. 

"  Don't  ask  me  now,"  I  replied,  "  not  until  we  are  far 
from  here,  and  then  I  will  tell  you  all." 

This  silenced  Charlie,  and  once  when  Mr.  Delafield  ques 
tioned  him  concerning  Doctor  Clayton,  and  why  he,  too,  did 
not  come  for  me,  he  replied  evasively,  but  in  a  manner  calcu 
lated  still  further  to  mislead  Mr.  Delafield,  who  had  no  suspi 
cion  of  the  truth,  though  he  fancied  there  was  something 
wrong.  In  the  meantime  he  was  to  me  the  same  kind  friend,, 
ministering  to  all  my  wants,  and  with*  a  lavish  generosity  pro 
curing  for  me  every  delicacy,  however  costly  it  might  be. 

One  day  Charlie,  with  his  usual  abruptness,  said  to  me, 
"  Rosa,  why  didn't  you  fall  in  love  with  Mr.  Delafield.  I 
should  much  rather  have  him  than  a  widower?" 

The  hot  blood  rushed  to  my  cheeks  as  I  replied  quickly, 
"  He  is  engaged  to  Miss  Moutrpse.  They  were  to  have  been 
married  this  fall,  Mrs.  Lansing  said,  but  the  marriage  is,  I 
presume,  deferred  on  account  of  their  recent  affliction.  At 
least  I  hear  nothing  said  of  it." 

"  If  I  am  any  judge  of  human  nature,"  returned  Charlie, 
"  Mr.  Delafield  cares  far  more  for  you  than  for  Miss  Mon- 
trose,  even  if  they  are  engaged.  But  then  you  are  poor,  while 
she  is  rich,  and  that,  I  suppose,  makes  the  difference." 

I  knew  Mr.  Delafield  too  well  to  suspect  him  of  mercenary  \ 
motives  in  marrying  Ada,  and  so  I  said,  "  He  loved  her,  of; 
course,  and  it  was  natural  that  he  should,  for  though  she  had »' 
some  faults,  he  probably  saw  in  her  enough  of  good  to  over 
balance  the  bad." 

And  still  I  could  not  help  thinking  that,  as  Charlie  had 
said,  his  attentions  to  me  were  far  more  lover-like  than  they 
were  toward  her.  But  then  I  fancied  that  his  kindness  was 
prompted  by  the  pity  which  he  felt  for  me,  a  young  girl  so 
far  from  home.  Thus  the  days  .wore  on,  leaving  me  deceived 
and  him  deceived,  while  the  letter  still  lay  behind  the  bureau. 

At  last  the  morning  dawned  on  which  I  was  to  say  good 
bye  to  the  scenes  I  loved  so  well.  I  was  to  leave  the  "  sunny 
South,"  with  its  dark  evergreens,  its  flowering  vines,  its  balmy 


228  MEADOW    BROOK. 

air.  I  was  to  leave  him,  who,  ere  the  next  autumn  leaves 
were  falling,  would  take  to  his  beautiful  home  a  bride.  Then 
I  thought  of  little  Jessie's  grave,  which  I  had  not  seen,  and 
on  which  my  tears  would  never  fall,  and  taking  from  its  hid 
ing-place  the  tress  of  shining  hair,  I  wept  over  that  my  last 
adieu.  It  was  later  than  usual  when  Mr.  Delafield  appeared, 
I  and  as  he  came  in  I  saw  that  he  was  very  pale. 
i.  "Are  you  sick?"  I  asked,  as  he  wiped  the  perspiration 
from  his  face. 

"  No,  no,"  he  hurriedly  answered;  at  the  same  time  cross 
ing  over  to  a  side  table,  he  poured  out  and  drank  two  large 
goblets  of  ice  water. 

Then  resuming  his  former  seat  near  me,  he  took  my  hand, 
and  looking  me  earnestly  in  the  face,  said,  "  Rosa,  shall  I 
ever  see  you  here  again?" 

Before  I  could  answer,  Ada  chimed  in,  "Of  course  we 
shall.  Do  coax  the  doctor  to  bring  you  here  some  time>  and 
let  us  see  how  you  bear  the  honors  of  being  madame!" 

Instantly  the  earnest  look  passed  away  from  Mr.  Delafield's 
face,  and  was  succeeded  by  a  scowl,  which  remained  antil  the 
carriage  which  was  to  take  me  to  the  depot  was  announced, 
Then  the  whole  expression  of  his  countenance  changed,  and 
for  a  brief  instant  my  heart  thrilled  with  joy,  for  I  could  not 
mistake  the  deep  meaning  of  his  looks  as  he  bent  over  me  and 
whispered  his  farewell. 

"  God  bless  you,  Rosa,"  he  said.  "  My  Rosa,  I  once  hopctf 
to  call  you.  But  it  can  not  be.  Farewell!" 

There  was  one  burning  kiss  upon  my  lips,  and  the  next  mo 
ment  he  was  gone. 

"  Are  you  going  to  the  depot?"  asked  his  sister,  as  he  wat 
leaving  the  room. 

"  No,  no,  no,"  he  replied;  and  then  as  Charlie  again,  bid 
},ne  come,  I  rose  bewildered  to  my  feet,  hardly  realizing  when 
Mrs.  Lansing,  Ada,  and  Lina  bid  me  adieu. 
;  Halbert  went  with  me  in  the  carriage,  and  together  with 
1  Charlie  looked  wonderingly  at  me,  as  I  unconsciously  repeat- 
ed  in  a  whisper,  "  My  Rosa  I  once  hoped  to  call  you.  It  is 
Ada  who  stands  in  the  way,"  I  said  to  myself,  and  covering 
my  face  with  my  veil,  I  wept  as  I  thought  of  ali.  I  had  lost 
when  Richard  Delafield  offered  his  heart  to  another.  He  dice 
love  me0  I  was  sure  of  that,  but  what  did  it  avail  me.  He 
was  too  honorable  to  break  his  ^engagement  with  Ada,  so 
henceforth  I  must  walk  alone,  bearing  tag  ourcbn  of  an  act 
ing  heart. 

*  *  *  *  *  * 


MEADOW    BROOK.  * 

"Oh,  I  have  loved  you  so  much/'  said  Halhert,  winding 
his  arms  about  my  neck — "  loved  you  as  I  shall  never  love 
another  teacher,"  and  the  boy's  tears  flowed  fast  as  he  bid  ine 
good-bye. 

One  parting  glance  at  Cedar  Grove,  one  last  lingering  look 
at  Sunny  Bank,  one  thought  of  Jessie's  grave,  and  then  the 
hissing  engine  shot  out  into  the  woods,  leaving  them  all  be 
hind.  Leaning  back  on  Charlie's  arm  and  drawing  my  veil 
over  my  face,  I  thought  how  impossible  it  was  that  I  shoulc5^- 
ever  visit  that  spot  again. 

*  *  *          •  *  *  *  *  i 

In  the  meantime,  a  far  different  scene  was  being  enacted  in ' 
the. apartment  I  had  just  vacated.  Scarcely  had  the  whistle 
of  the  engine  died  away  in  the  distance,  when  a  troup  of 
blacks,  armed  with  boiling  suds  and  scrubbing-brushes,  en 
tered  my  chamber  for  the  purpose  of  cleaning  it.  They  had 
carried  from  it  nearly  every  article  of  furniture,  and  nothing 
remained  save  the  matting  and  the  bureau,  the  latter  of  which 
they  were  about  to  remove  when  they  were  surprised  at  the 
unexpected  appearance  of  Mr.  Delafield,  who  could  not  resist 
the  strong  desire  which  he  felt  to  stand  once  more  in  the  room 
where  Rosa  had  spent  so  many  weary  weeks.  For  a  moment 
the  blocks  suspended  their  employment,  and  then  Linda,  who 
seemed  to  be  leading,  took  ho  id  of  the  bureau,  giving  one  end 
of  it  a  shove  toward  the  center  of  the  room.  The  movement 
dislodged  the  long-lost  letter,  which,  covered  with  dirt  and 
cobwebs,  fell  upon  the  floor  at  her  feet.  She  was  the  same 
woman  who,  weeks  before,  had  carelessly  knocked  off  the  let- 
her,  which  she  now  picked  up  and  handed  to  Mr.  Delafield, 
saying,  as  she  wiped  off  the  dirt,  "  It  must  have  laid  thar  a 
neap  of  a  while,  and  now  I  think  on't,  'pears  like  ever  so  long 
ago,  when  I  was  breshin'  the  bureau,  I  hearn  somethin'  drap, 
but  I  couldn't  find  nothin',  and  it  must  have  been  this." 

Glancing  at  the  superscription,  and  recognizing  the  hand 
writing  of  Doctor  Clayton,  Mr.  Delafield  broke  the  seal,  and 
read.     From  black  to  white — from  white  to  red — from  red  to 
speckled — and  from  speckled  back  again  to  its  natural  color,  , 
grew  his  face  as  he  proceeded,  while  his  eyes  grew  so  dazzling*  j 
ly  bright  with  the  intensity  of  his  feelings  that  the  negroes, 
who  watched  him,  whispered  among  themselves  that  he  :*  must 
be  gwine  stark  mad." 

His  active,  quick-seeing  mind  took  in  the  meanng  of  each 
sentence,  and  even  before  he  had  finished  tta  letter  he  under 
stood  everything  just  as  it  was—  -why  Bosa  1x^4  apj/ured  so 
strangely  when  she  read  l^v  >>^>r  a  yjtte**  HJ  liersclf, 


230  MEADOW    BROOK. 

and  realized  perfectly  what  her  feelings  must  have  been  as  day 
after  day  went  by  and  he  still  "  made  no  sign." 

"  But  she  is  mine  now,  thank  Heaven!  and  nothing  shall 
take  her  from  me,"  he  exclaimed  aloud,  unmindful  of  the 
presence  of  the  negroes,  who,  confirmed  in  their  impression  of 
his  insanity,  looked  curiously  after  him  as  he  went  down  the 
stairs,  down  the  walk,  and  out  into  the  street,  proceeding  with 
rapid  strides  toward  the  depot. 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

THE   CHASE. 

THE  railroad  which  passed  through  W was  only  a 

branch  of  the  main  route  leading  to  Charleston,  and  conse 
quently  there  were  but  two  passenger  trains  each  way  per 
day;  and  as  Mr.  Delafield's  great  object  now  was  to  reach 
Charleston  before  the  boat  in  which  Rosa  was  to  sail  should 
leave  the  landing,  it  seemed  impossible  for  him  to  wait  until 
night,  for  not  until  then  was  the  next  train  due.  Suddenly 
he  remembered  that  the  express  train  left  Augusta  about  four 
o'clock  P.  M.  It  was  now  ten,  and  he  could  easily  reach  it  in 
time  for  the  cars,  provided  there  had  been  no  change  in  the 
time-table.  To  ascertain  this,  therefore,  he  hastened  to  the 
depot,  where,  to  his  dismay,  he  learned  that  the  train  left 
Augusta  at  two. 

But  with  him  to  will  was  to  do.  Flying  rather  than  walk 
ing  back  to  his  house,  he  called  out  Bill,  his  coachman,  start 
ling  him  with  the  inquiry  as  to  whether  it  would  be  possible, 
with  his  best  horses — a  span  of  beautiful  dappled  grays,  wjiich 
were  valued  at  a  thousand  dollars — to  drive  to  Augusta  in  less 
than  four  hours. 

Besides  being  naturally  lazy  and  unwilling  for  exertion  of 
any  kind,  Bill  was  also  remarkably  tender  of  said  grays,  who 
were  his  pride,  and  whom  he  had  named  Fred  and  Ferd.  On 
nearing  his  master's  inquiry,  therefore,  he  looked  perfectly 
aghast,  and  diving  both  hands  into  his  matted  wool,  by  way 
of  illustration  undoubtedly,  replied,  "  Mighty  tough  scratch- 
in',  I  can  tell  you,  mars'r.  Them  ponies  hain't  been  driv, 
'only  what  I've  ex'cised  'em  for  health,  for  better'n  a  month, 
and  to  run  'em  as  I'd  hev  to  run  'em,  would  kill  'em  stone 
dead.  No,  mars'r,  can't  think  on't  for  a  minit;"  and  as  if 
this  were  conclusive,  and  his  word  the  law,  Bill  stuffed  his 
hands  into  his  bagging  trousers,  and  was  walking  quietly 
away,  when  Mr.  Delafield  stopped  him,  saying,  "I  shall  try 
it  at  all  events.  So  get  out  the  carriage  immediately,  and 


MEADOW    BR003.  231 

mind  you  are  not  over  five  minutes  doing  it.  Ask  some  one  to 
help  you  if  necessary.  Ho,  Jack!"  and  he  called  to  a  ragged 
mulatto  boy  who  was  doing  nothing,  and  bid  him  assist  Bill 
in  harnessing  the  horses. 

Rolling  his  white  eyes  in  utter  astonishment  at  what  seemed 
to  him  the  folly  of  his  master,  Bill  began  to  expostulate? 
"  Lor',  mars'r,  you  kill — " 

"  Silence,  and  do  as  I  bid  youV    said  Mr.  Delafield  in  a 

\  tone  which  Bill  thought  best  to  obey,  and  sauntering  off  to  the 

stables,  he  brought  out  the  ponies,  who  pranced  and  pawetf 

.  the  ground,  while  he  admired  their  flowing  manes  and  smooth, 

shining  coats. 

Then  seeing  Jack  standing  near,  ready  to  help,  he  haughtily 
ordered  him  away,  saying,  "  Nobody  but  myself  is  fit  to  tache 
these  critters.  They'd  know  in  a  minit  if  a  low-lived  nigger 
like  you  came  a  near." 

Nothing  loath,  Jack  walked  off,  while  Bill  proceeded  leisure 
ly  to  harness  the  beautiful  animals,  talking  to  them  as  if  they 
were  intelligent  beings,  and  telling  them,  "  never  to  fear — 
they  warn't  a-gwine  to  be  druv  to  Gusty  in  two  hours,  an'  no 
sich  thing.  Bill  sot  on  tip  box,  an'  'twas  nothin'  to  mars'r, 
who  warf  lollin'  on  the  cushions  inside." 

At  this  point  he  was  startled  by  the  voice  of  Mr.  Delafield, 
who,  having  hastily  packed  a  few  articles  in  his  portmanteau, 
and  written  a  line  to  his  sister,  had  come  out  to  superintend 
in  person  the  movements  of  his  servant,  whose  peculiarities  he 
perfectly  understood. 

"  So  ho,"  said  h? ,  ''you  mean  to  cheat  me,  do  you?"  at 
the  same  time  signifying  his  intention  of  having  the  horses  go 
as  fast  as  he  liked. 

"  The  Lord  help  Fred  and  Ferd  then,  for  Bill  can't,';  was 
the  mental  ejaculation  of  the  negro  as  he  saw  the  fire  in  his 
master's  eye  and  knew  he  must  be  obeyed. 

Still  he  managed  to  be  as  slow  as  possible,  insisting  that 
**'  Ferd  allus  had  to  drink  two  buckets  and  a  half,  or  he  warn't 
wuth  a  dime,"  adding  in  a  conciliatory  tone,  that  "  with  twt 
buckets  and  a  half  in  him  he'd  run  like  lightninV 

Very  impatiently  Mr.  Delafield  waited  for  the  disappearance 
«ie  the  requisite  amount  of  waiter,  consulting  his  watch,  count- 
'ing  the  minutes,  and  at  last  remarking  that  it  took  Ferd  a 
wonderful  while  to  drink. 

"  That's  'case  he's  sich  a  'strordinary  beast  every  way," 
answered  Bill,  who  for  some  little  time  had  been  holding  an 
empty  bucket  to  the  horse's  mouth. 

fie  was  going  to  replenish  a  third  time  sdien  his  master  or- 


832  MEADOW    BROOK. 

dered  him  back,  telling  him  he  could  wait  no  longer;  with  an 
other  glance  at  his  watch,  he  entered  the  carriage,  while  Bill, 
loudly  lamenting  the  half  bucket,  without  which  Ferd  would 
surely  die,  mounted  the  box,  where  he  spent  quite  awhile  in 
comfortably  disposing  of  his  long,  lank  limbs  and  in  adjusting 
his  palm-leaf  hat. 

"  Go  on,  you  rascal!'*  shouted  Mr.  Delafield,  beginning  to 
lose  his  temper;  and  gathering  up  the  reins,  Bill  whistled  to 
the  spirited  animals,  who  dashed  off  at  a  far  greater  speed 
than  their  driver  thought  was  at  all  conducive  to  their  welU 
being. 

"Hold  on  dar,  Ferd!  Stop  dat  foolin',  will  you,  Fred! 
Easy  dar,  both  on  you,  for  you  come  mighty  nigh  histin'  me 
off  de  box." 

This  last  was  said  quite  loud  for  the  benefit  of  Mr.  Dela- 
f?eld,  who,  perceiving  that  their  speed  had  slackened,  for  they 
Were  well  trained  and  readily  obeyed  Bill's  voice,  called  out, 
"  Drive  faster,  I  tell  you.  Give  them  the  ribbons,  and  let 
them  run." 

"  Lor'  a'mighty!"  answered  Bill,  now  coming  to  a  dead 
halt  in  order  that  his  master  miajit  be  better  impressed  with 
what  he  said.  "  You  don't  understan'  hoss  flesh.  At  this 
rate  you  kills  'em  in  less  than  no  time.  Ferd  never  'ill  stan' 
it  with  them  two  buckets  of  water,  'case  you  see  how  shakin' 
him  up  dis  way  dey'll  get  bilin'  hot,  an'  nobody  can  live  with 
bilin'  water  in  'em." 

Provoked  as  he  was,  Mr.  Delafield  could  not  repress  a  smile 
9 1  the  subterfuges  of  Bill  to  spare  his  horses;  but  he  bid  him 
drive  on,  saying,  however,  that  he  need  not  drive  them  at  the 
top  of  their  speed  immediately,  as  they  would  be  more  likely 
to  give  out,  "but  after  a  mile  or  two,"  he  continued,  "  put 
them  through  with  the  whip  if  necessary." 

"  Lor',  mars'r,"  answered  Bill  from  the  box,  without  mov-: 
ing  an  inch,  "  I  never  tache  them  with  a  whip  in  fte  world. I 
Fred  would  jump  clar  out  of  his  skin.  All  dey  want  to  make 
7  em  kill  deyselves  is  a  loose  rein  and  a  whistle — so." 

Suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  he  whistled  long  and  loud, 
thereupon  the  horses  started  forward  as  if  a  volley  of  artillery 
had  been  fired  at  their  heels,  while  mingled  with  the  roll  of 
the  wheels,  Mr.  Delafield  heard  the  distressed  Bill  saying, 
"  Whoa,  dar,  Ferdinand;  can't  you  whoa  when  I  tell  you. 
Think  of  the  bilin'  water,  and  keep  easy.  Come,  Frederic, 
you  set  him  a  'xample.  That's  a  good  boy;  no  'casion  for  all 
3is  hurry;  if  we  misses  one  train  we  catches  another.  All  to 
same  thing.  We  ain't  chasm'  a  runaway  gal,  as  I  knows  oi  " 


After  a  little  he  succeeded  in  stopping  them,  and  for  the 
next  ten  or  fifteen  minutes  they  proceeded  on  rather  leisurelv, 
and  Bill  was  beginning  to  think  his  master  had  come  to  his 
senses,  when  he  was  startled  wrth  the  stern  command,  "  Let 
them  run  now  as  fast  as  they  will.  Don't  check  them  at  all 
until  we  reach  the  depot." 

Accordingly,  for  a  mile  or -so  the  horses  rushed  on  at  head- 
I  speed,  Bill  sympathizing  with  them  deeply,  and  mentally 
'promising  himself      to  'tend  'em  mighty  keerful  to  pay  for 
this." 

At  last,  when  he  thought  it  safe  to  do  so,  he  held  them  in, 
taking  the  precaution,  however,  to  say  aloud,  "  Get  along 
dar,  ferd — none  your  lazy  tricks  here  when  mars' r's  in  sich  & 
hurry.  Can't  you  get  along  dar,  I  say.  An'  you  Fred,  wake 
up  yer  bones  to  de  merits  of  de  case." 

But  if  in  this  way  he  thought  to  deceive  the  resolute  maiv 
inside  he  was  mistaken.  Perceiving  that  their  speed  was  con 
siderably  slackened,  and  hearing  Bill  loudly  reproach  the 
horses  for  their  laziness,  Mr.  Delafield  softly  opened  the  car 
riage  door,  and  leaning  out,  learned  the  cauae  of  the  delay 
Bolt  upright  upon  the  box,  with  his  brawny  feet  firmly  braced 
against  the  dash-board  so  as  to  give  him  more  power,  sat  Bill, 
clutching  the  reins  with  might  and  main,  for  the  horses'  met 
tie  was  up,  and  it  required  his  entire  strength  to  keep  them 
from  running  furiously.  All  this  time,  too,  the  cunning 
negro  kept  chiding  them  for  their  indolence  in  moving  so 
slowly. 

"  Bill,"  said  Mr.  Delafield,  sternly,  <c  stop  the  carriage  in 
stantly." 

"  Lord  a  massy,  marsV."  exclaimed  the  frightened  Bill. 

"  You  almost  skeered  me  off  de  box.     Ferd  won't  get  along 

.nohow.    I  tells  him,  and  I  tells  him  how  you're  in  de  hurry — 

•don't  you  mind  how  I  keeps  tellin'  him  to'  get  along.     Reckon 

he  wants  dat  t'other  half  bucket  o'  water." 

"  I  understand  you  perfectly,"  said  Mr.  Delafield,  alight 
ing  from  the  carriage,  and  to  the  utter  astonishment  of  Bill 
mounting  the  box  and  taking  the  reins  in  his  own  hands.     * ( I 
understand  your  tricks,  and  for  the  rest  of  the  way  I  shall 
.drive  myself." 

Rolling  his  eyes  wildly  in  their  sockets^  the  crestfallen  BilJ 
folded  his  arms  and  resigned  the  horses  to  their  fate,  saying 
mentally,  "  I  shall  wear  mournin'  for  'em,  I  shall,  and  he  may 
help  hisselt" 

Over  rough  and  stony  places,  over  smooth  and  sandy  roads, 
over  hills,  over  plains,  through  the  woods,  through  the 


MEADOW    BROOK. 

swamps,  and  through  the  winding  valleys,  on  they  sped  like 
lightning,  the  excited  horses  covered  with  foam,  their  driver, 
silent  and  determined,  while  poor  Bill,  with  the  perspiration 
streaming  down  his  shining  face,  kept  up  a  continued  expos 
tulation,  "  Now,  mars'r,  for  de  dear  Lord's  sake,  stop  'em 
'fore  dey  draps  down  dead.  Look  at  de  white  specks  aft  over^ 
Ferd's  back — he'll  never  stan'  it  without  dat  t'other  half* 
bucket.  You  kills  'em  sartin,  and  dar  goes  a  thousand  dol 
lars  smack  an'  clean." 

But  Bill's  entreaties  were  all  in  vain,  and  his  distress  was 
at  its  height  when  fortunately  his  thoughts  ware  diverted  in 
another  channel.  At  a  sudden  turn  of  the  road  a  gust  of 
wind  lifted  the  old  palm-leaf  from  his  woolly  head,  and  car 
ried  it  far  away.  "  Now,  dear  mars'r,"  said  Bill,  laying  hig 
hand  on  that  of  Mr.  Delafield,  "  you'll  sartin  let  'em  breathe 
while  I  picks  up  my  hat,  'case  you  see  how'll  you  look  gwine 
into  town  wid  a  bareheaded  nigger.  In  de  Lord's  name, 
stop,"  he  continued,  as  he  saw  in  his  master  no  signs  of  re 
lenting. 

Glancing  over  his  shoulder,  Mr.  Delafield  saw  the  hat  away 
over  the  fields,  and  quietly  taking  a  bill  from  his  pocket  and 
placing  it  in  the  negro's  hand,  he  replied,  "  That  will  buy 
you  five  such  hats." 

"  Yes,  but  de  bosses,  Lor'  a'mighty,  de  bosses  I"  exclaimed 
Bill,  almost  frantically.  (e  Don't  you  see  Ferd  is  gwine  to  gin 
out?" 

Mr.  Delafield  feared  so,  too,  and  more  to  himself  than  to 
his  servant,  he  said,  "  perhaps  the  cars  will  be  behind  tUhe — • 
they  usually  are." 

Without  considering  the  consequence,  Bill  answered,  "No, 
they  won't;  'case  I  hear  how  they  hired  a  tarin'  Yankee  for  an 
engine,  and  he  drives  all  afore  him— gits  ahead  of  de  time  an? 
all  dat" 

The  next  minute  he  repented  a  speech  whose  disastrous 
Effects  he  foresaw,  and  he  was  about  to  deny  it  as  a  fabrica- 
fcion  of  his  own  brain,  when  his  master,  who  really  saw  signs 
of  lagging  in  the  nervous,  fiery  Ferd,  said,  "  Bill,  you  have  a 
peculiar  whistle  with  which  you  spur  up  the  horses.  Make  it 
now;  Ferd  has  run  himself  almost  down." 

"  De  Lord  have  massy  on  us,"  groaned  Bill,  wiping  away 
a  tear;  then,  as  Mr.  Delafield  repeated  his  order,  he  said,  in  a 
whining  tone,  "  Can't,  mars'r,  nohow;  'case  you  see  my 
chroat  is  drefful  sore,  ridin'  bareheaded  so  in  the  breeze  which 
you  kicks  up — can't,  nohow." 

"  But  you  must,"  persisted  Mr.  l&lafield. 


MEADOW    BROOK.  235 

Bill  still  refused,  until  at  last,  as  they  approached  the  town, 
they  heard  a  heavy,  rumbling  sound. "  It  was  the  roll  of  the 
cars  in  the  distance,  and  starting  up,  Mr.  Delafield  seized  the 
negro  by  the  shoulder  and  in  thunder  tones  called  out, 
"  Whistle!" 

"  Lord,  mars'r,  I  will,  I  will!"  gasped  Bill,  terrified  at  the 
fiery  gleam  of  his  master's  eye,  and  from  his  mouth  there  is  j 
sued  a  most  unearthly  sound,  which,  mingled  with  the  shriek 
of  the  fast-coming  engine,  urged  on  the  jaded  horses  to  one 
more  desperate  effort. 

A  few  more  mad  plunges  and  they  reached  the  depot,  cov 
ered  with  foam  and  frothing  at  the  mouth,  just  as  the  train 
was  moving  slowly  away.  With  one  pitying  farewell  glanoe 
bt  his  dying  grays,  Mr.  Delafield  exclaimed,  "  Cut  the  har 
ness  instantly,"  and  then  with  a  bound  sprung  upon  the  plat- 
lorm,  which  he  reached  just  as  Bill  called  after  him  in  mourn 
ful  accents,  "  Ferd's  dead,  mars'r,  Ferd  is/'  while  mingled 
with  the  roar  of  the  machinery  he  caught  the  faint  echo  of 
something  about  "  t'other  half  bucket  of  water." 

But  little  cared  he  for  that.  Rosa  Lee.  was  to  be  over 
taken,  and  to  accomplish  this,  he  would  willingly  have  sacri 
ficed  every  horse  of  which  he.  was  owner,  even  were  they  twice 
us  valuable  as  the  dappled  grays. 

So,  wishing  him  a  successful  journey,  and  leaving  him  on 
Ohe  seat  with  a  Yankee  peddler,  who  saw  him  when  he  came 
ip  and  "  guessed  he  was  after  a  runaway  nigger,"  we  return 
::or  a  moment  to  Bill,  who  with  tears  streaming  from  his  eyes 
matched  the  struggles  of  Ferd  until  the  noble  animal  was 
dead,  bringing  him  water  which  he  vainly  coaxed  him  to 
drink,  while  the  by-standers,  who  crowded  round,  asked  him 
innumerable  questions  as  to  why  they  drove  so  fast  and  where 
his  master  was  going.  ( 

To  the  first  Bill  could  not  reply,  but  to  the  last  he  prompt- , 
ly  answered,  as  he  patted  the  remains  of  the  departed  Ferdi-? 
nand,  "  Gwine  to  the  devil,  in  course!  Whar  you  'spect  a 
white  man  to  go  what  treats  bosses  in  dis  kind  o'  style? 
Won't  let  'em  hev  all  the  water  dey  wants,  an'  drives  Jem  till 
dey  draps  dead  in  der  tracks.." 

The  story  of  the  half  bucket  was  duly  rehearsed,  Bill  firm 
ly  believing  that  if  Ferd  had  drunk  it  he  would  undoubtedly 
have  lived  "  dis  minit  and  been  as  spry  as  a  cricket.  But 
now  he's  dead,  and  Fred,  too,"  continued  the  negro,  as  the 
latter  ceased  to  move.  "  Sich  another  span  Of  bosses  thar 
.ain't  in  all  Gcorgy;"  and  laying  his  black  face  upon  the  neck 
of  the  insensible  Ferd.  the  negro  cried  like  a  child. 


26  MEADOW    BROOfc. 

"There  is  one  comfort,  at  least,  my  boy."  said  a  gentle 
manly  looking  man,  who  stood  near  and  who  knew  Mr.  Dela- 
field,  "  your  horses  didn't  suffer,  for  they  were  too  much  ex« 
cited." 

This  in  a  measure  consoled  Bill,  who,  wiping  his  eyes,  asked 
what  he  was  to  do  with  them,  saying  he  "  never  could  dig  thar 
grave." 

"  My  negroes  shall  do  it  for  you,"  answered  the  stranger; 
and  in  a  short  time  several  stalwart  men  were  busy  in  an  adja 
cent  field  making  a  grave 'for  the  dappled  grays,  which  they 
carefully  buried,  while  on  a  stump,  with  his  head  resting  on 
his  knees,  sat  Bill  as  chief  mourner. 

"  I  wish  I  knew  a  pra'r,"  he  whispered  to  himself,  "  for  if 
ever  bosses  'sarved  it,  they  do;"  but  the  rude  African  had 
never  prayed  since  he  was  a  little  child,  and  thinking  himself 
too  old  to  begin  now,  he  rose  up  from  the  stump,  just  as  his 
companions,  having  finished  their  task,  were  beginning ,  to  ridi 
cule  his  bare  head,  telling  him  he  must  have  an  unkind  mas 
ter,  judging  from  his  own  appearance  and  the  sad  fate  of  the 
horses,  while  one  of  them  advised  him  to  run  away. 

This  was  touching  Bill  in  a  tender  point;  for  though  he  had 
loved  the  horses  much,  he  loved  his  master  more,  and  he 
would  not  hear  him  censured.  Accordingly,  he  retorted, 
petulantly,  that  thar  warn't  a  better  master  in  all  Georgy 
than  Mars' r  Dick,  nor  a  richer  one  neither;  an'  'twarn't  no 
body's  business  if  he  killed  five  hundred  horses — he  could 
afford  it.  'Twarn't  as  though  he  was  poor  and  owned  nothin' 
but  a  few  low  trash  like  the  Gusty  niggers!" 

This  insinuation  the  "  Gusty  niggers  "  chose  to  resent  as  an 
insult,  and  a  regular  negro  fight  ensued,  in  which  Bill,  being 
the  weaker  party,  came  off  rather  badly  beaten,  his  face  being 
•  Scratched  in  several  places,  while  liis  pants  received  a  huge 
•rent  which  in  nowise  tended  to  improve  his  personal  appear 
ance.  Matters  being  at  last  amicably  adjusted,  the  victorious 
party  returned  home,  while  Bill,  who  had  frequently  been  in 
Augusta  with  his  master,  wended  his  way  to  a  hatter's  shop, 
where  he  soon  made  himself  the  owner  of  a  second-hand 
beaver,  which  at  his  request  was  ornamented  by  a  weed  of 
crape  as  a  badge  of  mourning  for  'his  favorite  steeds.  "Then 
seeing  that  the  carriage  was  safely  stowed  away,  he  started  on 
foot  for  home,  stopping  at  the  negro  quarters  of  almost  every 
plantation  to  relate  his  wonderful  adventures.  As  he  was  per 
fectly  trusty  and  faithful,  he  was  always . allowed  to  carry  a 
pass  by  his  good-natured  master,  and  thus  he  found  no  diffi 
culty  in  his  journey,  which,  hp  took  quite  leisurely/  never 


MEADOW    Bf;f:fK  23? 

reaching  Sunny  Bank  until  the  close  of  tne  second  day  aftev 
the  one  on  which  he  had  left  it. 

In  the  meantime,  Mr.  Delafield,  with  closely  knit  brows 
and  compressed  lips  —  his  usual  look  when  he  was  in  deep 
thought  —  sat  musing  of  the  time  when  Rosa  Lee  would  be  his 
wife,  while  at  his  side  the  Yankee  peddler,  with  his  basket  of 
essence  carefully  stowed  under  the  seat,  was  casting  curious 
glances  at  his  companion,  whose  history  he  was  desirous  of 
knowing.  But  there  was  something  in  Mr.  Del  afield'  s  appear-* 
ance  which  forbid  familiarity,  so  for  once  the  loquacious  Yan 
kee  was  silent. 

They  were  now  about  half-way  between  Augusta  and 
Charleston  and  going  at  great  speed,  when  suddenly  at  a 
short  curve  there  was  a  violent  commotion  —  the  passengers 
were  pitched  forward  and  backward,  while  the  engine  plunged 
down  a  steep  embankment,  throwing  the  train  from  the  track, 
and  dragging  after  it  the  baggage  car,  which  in  some  way  be 
came  detached  from  the  rest.  The  new  "  Yankee  engineer  " 
was  a  da/ing,  reckless  fellow  who  at  the  North  had  been  dis 
charged  for  carelessness  and  had  come  to  try  his  fortune  at 
the  South.  Fortunately  no  one  was  seriously  hurt  except  Mr. 
Delafield,  whose  injuries  were  simply  mental,  as  he  knew  this 
accident  would  probably  detain  them  for  many  hours.  In  a 
perfect  storm  of  excitement  he  stalked  up  and  down  the  track, 
asking  the  conductor  every  few  minutes  how  long  it  would 
probably  be  before  they  could  go  on,  and  at  last  growing  so 
dark  in  the  face,  that  the  Y  ankee,  after  looking  over  his  es* 


sy  question,  but  I  raley 
ain't  a  little  atom  of  black  blood  in  you?" 
•  "  Very  likely,"  answered  Mr.  Delafield;  while  the  Yankee, 
now  that  the  ice  was  broken,  continued  to  ply  him  with  ques 
tions,  which,  though  very  annoying  to  the  haughty  South 
erner,  tended  to  relieve  in  a  measure  the  tediousness  of  wait 
ing. 

The  sun  had  long  been  set  and  the  stars  were  shining 
brightly  ere  they  were  able  to  proceed,  and  it  was  after  mid-* 
night  when  they  at  last  reached  Charleston.  Driving  imme 
diately  to  the  landing,  Mr.  Delafield  to  his  great  joy  found 
that  the  steamer  bound  for  New  York  still  lay  at  the  wharf 
and  would  not  start  until  monrnp  But  was  Rosa  Lee  on 
board?  That  was  a  question  which  puzzled  him,  and  as  there 
was  no  way  of  satisfying  himself  until  morning,  he  sat  down 


238  MEADOW    BROOK. 

in  one  of  the  state-rooms  and  rather  impatiently  awaited  the 

dawn  of  day, 

******* 

The  hurry,  the  confusion,  and  the  excitement  of  starting 
was  over.  We  were  out  upon  the  deep  blue  sea,  and  from 
the  window  of  my  state-room  I  watched  the  distant  shore  as 
it  slowly  receded  from  view,  and  felt  that  I  was  leaving  the 
land  of  sunlight  and  of  flowers.  Notwithstanding  the  fatiguing 
journey  of  the  previous  day,  I  was  better  this  morning  than  I 
tad  been  for  many  months  before,  for  I  had  slept  quietly 
through  the  nighto 

An  hour  or  two  after  breakfast  Charlie  came  to  me  with  a 
very  peculiar  expression  in  his  face,  and  asked  me  to  go  upon 
deck,  saying  the  fresh  breeze  would  do  me  good.  I  consented 
willingly,  and  throwing  on  my  shawl  and  a  simple  Leghorn 
hat  which  had  been  of  much  service  to  me  at  Cedar  Grove, 
and  which  Mr.  Delafield  had  often  said  was  very  becoming,  I 
went  out  with  Charlie,  who  led  me  to  the  rear  of  the  boat, 
where  he  said  we  were  not  so  liable  to  be  disturbed.  Seating 
me  upon  a  small  settee,  he  asked  to  be  excused  for  a  few  mo 
ments,  saying  a  should  not  be  long  alone.  The  motion  of  the 
boat  produced  a  slight  dizziness  in  my  head,  and  leaning  my 
elbow  upon  the  arm  of  the  settee,  I  shaded  my  eyes  with  my 
hand  and  sat  lost  in  thought  until  I  heard  the  sound  of  a  foot 
step. 

"  It  was  Charlie/'  I  said,  so  I  did  not  look  up,  even  when 
he  sat  down  by  my  side  and  wound  his  arm  round  me,  wrap- 
'ping  my  shawl  closer  together,  oh,  so  gently!  "  Charlie  is 
very  'tender  of  me  since  my  sickness,"  I  thought,  and^much  I 
loved  that  he  should  thus  caress  me.  It  thrilled  me  strange 
ly,  bringing  back  to  my  mind  the  night  when  I  sat  in  the 
Vine-wreathed  arbor,  where  I  should  never  sit  again. 

For  a  moment  there  was  perfect  silence,  and  I  could  hear 
the  beating  of  Charlie's  heart.  Then  leaning  forward  and  re- 
gnoving  my  hand  from  my  eyes,  he  pressed  a  kiss  upon  my 
Sips  and  whispered  as  he  did  so,  "  My  own  Rosa!" 

Once,  when  I  was  apparently  dying,  the  sound  of  that  voice 

(had  called  me- back  to  life,  and  now  with  a  cry  of  joy  I  sprung 
to  my  feet,  and  turning  round,  stood  face  to  face  with  Richard 
Delafield,  who,  stretching  his  arms  toward  me,  said,  "  Come 
to  my  bosom,  Rose.  Henceforth  jt  is  your  resting-place." 

The  shock  was  too  much  for  me  in  my  weak  state.     A 
faintness  stole  over  me,  and  if  I  obeyed  his  command,  it  was 
because  I  could  not  help  it- 
When  I  returned  to  consciousness,  Richard's  arms  were 


MEADOW    BROOK.  239 

aw/and  me,  and  my  head  was  resting  upon  his  bosom,  while 
he  whispered  to  me  words  which  I  leave  to  the  imagination, 
as  I  dare  not  give  them  to  the  world,  lest  he — Uncle  Dick  I 
call  him — should  be  angry  in  his  way,  and  I  have  learned  to 
be  a  very  little  afraid  of  him  since  that  morning  when  on 
board  the  steamer  "  Delphine  "  we  sat  and  talked  together  of; 
the  past. 

TV  onderingly  I  listened  while  he  told  me  how  long  he  had 
loved  me;  how  once  he  had  thought  to  tell  me  of  his  love,  bul 
the  manner  in  which  I  answered  his  leading  question  dis 
heartened  him,  for-  he  feared  his  affection  was  not  returned; 
how  it  had  filled  his  heart  with  bitter  grief  when  he  saw  me 
about  to  marry  another;  how  his  sister  had  deceived  him  01 
lie  should  have  spoken  to  me  then;  and  how,  in  a  moment  of 
temptation,  when  he  stood  over  my  pillow,  he  had  asked  that 
I  might  die,  for  he  would  far  rather  that  death  should  be  his 
rival  than  a  fellow-man.  Then  as  he  thought  how  near  I  hacl 
been  to  the  dark  valley  he  shudderingly  drew  me  closer  to  hia 
side  and  told  me  how  he  had  wondered  at  Doctor  Clayton's 
leaving  me  so  abruptly,  and  how  sometimes,  when  a  ray  of 
hope  was  beginning  to  dawn  upon  him,  it  had  been  chilled  by 
my  manner,  which  he  now  understood. 

"  You  can  not  conceive/'  said  he  in  conclusion,  "  what  mj 
feelings  were  yester  morn  when  1  oid  you  adieu,  nor  yet  can 
you  comprehend  the  overwhelming  delight  I  experienced  when 
I  read  that  letter  and  felt  that  you  would  at  last  be  mine/' 

When  he  had  ceased  to  speak,  I  took  up  the  story  and  told 
him  of  all  my  own  feelings,  and  that  nothing  would  ever  have 
oiduced  me  to  think  for  a  moment  of  becoming  Doctor  Clay 
ton's  wife  but  the  belief  that  he  was  engaged  to  Ada,  a  story 
which  I  told  him  his  sister  affirmed  when  I  went  to  her  for 
counsel. 

"  And  so  Angeline  played  a  double  part,"  said  he,  sighing* 
leeply.  "  I  never  thought  she  could  be  guilty  of  so  much  de^ 
eeption,  though  I  have  always  known  she  was  averse  to  myf 
marrying  any  one." 

Of  Ada  he  said  that  never  for  a  moment  had  he  been  en* 
gaged  to  her.  "  She  is  to  me  like  a  sister,"  said  he,  "  and 
though  I  know  she  has  many  faults,  I  am  greatly  attached  to 
her,  for  we  have  lived  together  many  years.  She  was  com 
mitted  to  my  care  by  her  father,  and  I  shall  always  be  faithful 
to  my  trust.  And  if, -dear  Rosa,  in  the  future,  circumstances 
should  render  it  necessary  for  her  to  live  with  us,  shall  you 
object?  She  can  not  harm  you  now.'' 

'He  had  talked  to  me  mueb  at  to  iove*  but  not  a  word  be* 


240  MEADOW    BROO&. 

» 

fore  had  lie  said  of  my  sharing  his  home  at  Sunny  Bank,  so  1 
rather  ooquettishly  answered,  "  You  talk  of  my  living  with 
you  as  a  settled  matter,  and  still  you  have  not  asked  me  if  I 
would." 

A  shadow  for  a  moment  darkened  his  face,  and  then  with  a 
very  quizzical  expression  he  made  me  a  formal  offer  of  himself 
and  fortune,  asking  me  pointedly  if  I  would  accept  it,  and — - 
and — well,  of  course  I  did  what  my  readers  knew  I  would  do 
when  I  first  told  them  of  the  dark  man  at  the  theater — I  said 
*'*'  yes,"  and  promised  to  return  with  him  to  Sunny  Bank  as 
soon  as  my  health  would  permit,  which  he  was  positive  would 
be  in  a  very  few  weeks,  for  he  should  be  my  daily  physician, 
and  "  love/'  he  said,  "  would  work  miracles." 

Thus,  you  see,  we  were,  engaged— Richard  and  I. 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 

HUMAN    NATURE. 

THE  sun  had  set  on  Cedar  Grove,  and  together  on  the 
broad,  airy  piazza  sat  Mrs.  Lansing  and  Ada,  rather  impa 
tiently  waiting  for  Richard,  whom  they  had  not  seen  since  he 
left  them  so  abruptly  in  the  morning.  Greatly  relieved  at 
the  absence  of  one  wnom  she  had  in  a  measure  dreaded  as  a 
rival,  Ada  began  to  hope  that  the  conquest  of  her  guardian 
would  now  be  a  comparatively  easy  matter,  and  as  she  knew 
the  effect  which  a  pretty  face  and  a  becoming  dress  had  upon 
him,  she  had  spent  a  great  deal  of  time  upon  this  evening's 
toilet,  and  looked  unusually  young  and  handsome  in  her  pale- 
blue  tissue,  with  her  soft  curls  falling  over  her  white,  uncov 
ered  neck. 

That  day  she  had  talked  a  long  time  with  Mrs.  Lansing, 

who  had  not  only  expressed  her  willingness  to  receive  her  as  a 

ister,  but  had  also  promised  to  do  whatever  she  could  to  for- 

ard  the  matter.  Believing  Mrs.  Lansing  to  have  far  more 
imnuence  over  .her  brother  than  she  really  had,  Ada  began  to 
entertain  hopes  of  soon  becoming  a  bride,  and  when  she 
thought  no  one  could  see  her,  actually  wrote  upon  a  card, 
"  Mr.  and  Mrs.  R.  Delafield,"  just  to  see  how  it  would  lookc 
It  looked  well,  she  thought,  and  smoothing  from  her  brow  a 
frown  which  had  been  caused  by  her  finding  among  her  wav 
ing  tresses  a  long  white  hair,  she  went  down  to  the  piazza  to 
await  Richard's  coming. 

"  He  has  not  been  here  since  morning,  and  I  am  sure  he'll 
come  to-night.  You  know  he  has  latterly  been  a  most  con 
stant  visitor,"  remarked  Mrs.  Lansing. 


MEADOW    BROOK. 

"  Yes;  but  possibly  the  attraction  which  kept  him  so  much 
uere  is  gone/'  faintly  suggested  Ada. 

"  Fy!"  returned  Mrs.  Lansing,  with  a  toss  of  her  head. 
"  I  know  Richard  better  than  that;  and  though  he  may  at  one 
time  have  felt  a  slight  interest  in  Miss  Lee,  I  am  positive  'tis 
nothing  serious  or  lasting.  Only  think  of  it,  Richard  Dela- 
field  marry  my  governess,  a  poor  school-mistress!  What 
would  his  fashionable  acquaintances  in  Augusta  and  Charleston 
say,  setting  aside  our  friends  in  Ke\v  Orleans?" 

And  on  the  proud  woman's  face  there  was  a  sneer  at  the 
very  idea  of  her  brother's  thus  disgracing  himself. 

"  Hark!  I  do  believe  he's  coming,"  said -Ada,  as  she  heard 
approaching  footsteps,  and  she  had  just  time  to  adjust  her 
skirfr  gracefully  when  there  stood  before  her,  not  Mr.  Dela- 
fielr7  jut  the  servant  to  whom  had  been  intrusted  the  note  for 
Mv  .  Lansing. 

This  the  negro  had  entirely  forgotten  until  it  was  recalled 
to  his  mind  by  the  continued  absence  of  his  master,  whose  re 
turn  they  had  confidently  expected  before  night.  Taking  the 
note  from  his  hand,  Mrs.  Lansing  hastily  glanced  at  its  con 
tents,  and  then,  with  an  exclamation  of  surprise,  handed  it  to 
Ida,  ,vho  turned  deathly  pale  as  she  saw  her  new-born  hopes 
crushed  at  once  and  forever;  and  if  now  she  clasped  her  hand 
upon  her  side,  the  action  was  not  feigned,  for  a  pain  which 
blistering  could  not  heal  was  indeed  there — the  pain  of 
wounded  pride  at  seeing  an  humble,  obscure  girl  preferred  to 
Aerself.  For  several  minutes  not  a  word  was  spoken,  and 
then  Mrs.  Lansing,  who  knew  it  would  not  be  politic  to  quar 
rel  with  her  brother,  said,  "  I  am  astonished  at  Richard's  pro 
ceedings,  but  I  suppose  there  is  no  help  for  it,  and  we  may  as 
well  make  the  best  of  it.  Miss  Lee  ain't  the  worst  girl  in  the 
world.  She  had  many  friends  in  the  village,  was  well  edu 
cated,  and  with  a  few  lessons  from  us  on  some  points  of  eti 
quette  she  may  do  very  well." 

"  Us  !"  angrily  retorted  Ada.  "  When  /  teach  Dick  Del* 
field's  wife  etiquette  I  shall  be  older  than  I  am  now." 

"  And  tltat  you  would  not  care  to  be/'  said  Mrs.  Lansing, 
a  little  sarcastically. 

She  was  a  woman,  who,  if  essential  to  her  own  interests, 
could  turn  with  every  breeze,  and  though  she  was  not  pleased 
with  her  brother's  choice,  she  did  not  deem  it  advisable  tc 
provoke  his  anger  by  quarreling  about  it,  for  when  once 
roused,  but  few  could  cope  with  his  resolute,  determined 
spirit.  Then,  too.  Rosa  Lee  was  yielding  and  generous,  *md 
would  not  object  even  if  her  husband  should  bestow  ha'i  !iis 


"42  MEADOW    BROOK, 

fortune  upon  his  sister;  so  after  all  it  might  be  better  to  have 
iier  the  mistress  of  Sunny  Bank  'ban  one  like  Ada,  who  was 
more  selfish,  and  wanted  everything  for  herself.  Thus  Mrs. 
Lansing  reasoned,  coming  at  last  to  feel  quite  amiably  dis 
posed  toward  Rosa  Lee,  whom  she  fully  intended  to  manage 
in  her  own  way,  and  she  was  about  making  up  her  mind  to 
torite  a  kind,  sisterly  letter  to  said  Rosa,  when  her  attention 
was  attracted  by  a  loud  sobbing,  and  looking  round,  she  sa^ 
Ada  weeping  violently. 

As  well  as  she  could  love  any  one,  Ada  had  loved  her  guard 
ian,  and  the  knowledge  that  he  was  now  lost  to  her  overcame 
her  for  a  time,  and  covering  her  face  with  her  hands,  sue  cried 
aloud.  Mrs.  Lansing  had  never  really  loved  in  hf,r  Me.  so  she 
could  not  appreciate  the  feeling,  and  she  made  no  effort  to 
soothe  the  weeping  girl  who  that  night  wet  her  pillow  with 
bitter  tears,  and  who  next  morning  looked  weary,  pale,  an6 
old,  as  she  languidly  took  her  seat  at  the  breakfast-table. 
Still,  Ada  was  not  one  to  love  very  deeply,  and  as  on  this  occa 
sion  her  pride  was  touched  rather  than  her  heart,  she  ere  long 
grew  calm,  and  with  Mrs.  Lansing  wiseJy  resolved  to  make  the 
best  of  it. 

Then,  too,  there  arose  the  very  natural  desire  to  con 
ceal  from  Richard  that  she  had  ever  cared  for  him,  and  to  do 
this  she  thought  she  must  pretend  to  be  pleased  with  his 
choice.  Accordingly,  when  Mrs.  Lansing  wrote  to  her  broth 
er,  Ada  inclosed  a  gilt-edged  note,  in  which  she  congratulated 
him  upon  his  intended  marriage,  telling  him  she  had  foreseen 
it  from  the  first,  and  ended  by  sending  her  love  to  Rosa. 
Thus,  because  she  thought  it  would  be  to  her  interest,  did 
Mrs.  Lansing  deem  it  best  to  change  her  tactics,  while  Ada 
was  too  proud  to  evince  any  open  hostility,  though  in  her  heart 
she  hated  the  future  bride,  and  lamented  the  fatality  which 
had  decreed  taa>,  she  should  be  rivaled  by  "  both  of  those  Lee 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

THE  SOUTHERN  PLANTER  V  IN^RTHEtftf  BRIDE. 

OVER  the  New  England  hills  the  hazy  light  of  a  most  glorr 
ous  Indian  summer  was  shining,  while  me  forest  trees,  in  their 
gorgeous  array  of  crimson  and  gold,  lifted  their  tall  heads  as 
proudly  as  if  they  heard  not  in  the  distance  the  voice  of  com 
ing  sorrows  and  the  sighing  of  winte:-  winds.  The  birds  had 
flown  to  their  Southern  home,,  where  I  fondly  hoped  to  meet 
them,  for  I  was  to  be  a  brido — Richard's  bride— and  the  day 


MEADOW     BROOK,  843 

for  my  bridal  had  come.  We  had  been  everywhere — Richard 
and  i — all  over  the  old  Meadow  Brook  farm,  sacred  to  me  for 
the  many  hallowed  associations  which  clustered  round  it,  and 
very,  very  dear  to  him  because  it  was  my  childhood's  home. 
So  he  told  me  when  we  stood  for  the  last  time  beneath  the 
spreading  grape-vine,  and  I  pointed  out  to  him  the  place 
where,  years  before,  I  had  lain  in  the  long  green  grass  and 
Wept  over  the  fickleness  of  one  who  was  naught  to  me  nowt 
save  a  near  friend. 

Together  we  had  sat  in  the  old  brown  school-house — he  in 
big  arm-chair,  and  I — but  no  matter  where  /  sat — when 
i  told  him  of  the  little  romping  girl  with  yellow  hair,  who  had 
there  first  learned  to  con  the  alphabet  and  to  trace  on  the 
gayly  colored  maps  the  boundary  of  Georgia,  little  dreaming 
that  her  home  would  one  day  be  there.  Then  when  I  showed 
him  the  bench  where  I  had  lain  when  the  faintness  came  over 
me,  he  wound  his  arm  closer  around  me — though  wherefore  I 
do  not  know.  Together,  too,  we  had  gone  over  the  old  farm- 
house,  he  lingering  longest  in  the  room  where  I  was  born,  and 
when  he  thought  I  didn't  see  him,  gathering  a  withered  leaf, 
from  the  rose-bush  which  grew  beneath  the  window,  and  which 
I  told  him  I  had  planted  when  a  little  girl. 

Every  woman,  young  and  old,  in  the  neighborhood  and  in 
the  village  had  seen  him,  either  face  to  face  or  from  behind 
the  folds  of  a  muslin  curtain,  some  calling  him  "  black  and 
ugly,"  while  others  pronounced  him  "  splendid,"  and  all  I 
believe  united  in  saying  that,  "  Eosa  Lee  had  done  wonders, 
considering  she  had  no  great  amount  of  beauty  to  do  it  with!" 

Once,  when  a  remark  like  this  came  to  Eichard's  ear,  he 
smiled  quietly  and  said,  "  Eosa  Lee  is  beautiful  to  me,  foi 
though  her  face  may  lack  perfect  regularity  of  features  and 
brilliancy  of  complexion,  she  has  beauty  of  a  higher  order,  a 
beauty  of  the  mind,  which  is  seen  in  her  laughing  blue  eyes 
and  sunny  smile.'7 

Thus  you  see,  my  reader,  that  Eichard  thought  I  was  hand 
some,  while  strange  as  it  may  seem,  there  were  others  who  saicl 
BO  too,  and  even  I  was  sensible  of  a  thrill  of  pride,  such  as  I 
suppose  conscious  beauties  feel,  when  I  stood  up  before  the 
imirror  and  saw  how  well  I  looked  in  my  bridal  dress  of  satin 
and  lace — Ins  gift,  but  not  the  same  which  he  had  purchased 
for  me  some  months  before.  At  first  I  had  proposed  wearing 
the  one  intended  for  Doctor  Clayton's  bride,  but  Richard 
would  not  suffer  it  so,  I  gave  it  to  Lizzie,  who,  as  soon  as  John 
Thompson  was  of  age,  which  would  be  in  January,  would 
probably  have  need  of  it.  This  same  John  was  to  be  ou> 


244  MEADOW    BROOK. 

groomsman,  and  much  he  amused  Richard  by  telling  him  of 
the  tall,  hateful  boy  who  had  once  been  a  terror  to  a.  little 
school-ma'am  thirteen  years  of  age,  who  now,  with  a  height 
ened  bloom  upon  her  cheek  and  a  strange  light  in  her  eye, 
stood  waiting  the  summons  to  the  parlor  below.  It  came  at 
last,  and  as  I  laid  my  hand  on  Richard's  arm  he  imprinted  a 
kiss  upon  my  lips,  "  the  last,"  he  said  "  he  should  eve  *ive 
to  Rosa  Lee." 

Of  what  came  next  I  have  only  a  faint  remembrance. 
There  was  a  rustling  of  satin  upon  the  narrow  staircase,  down 
which  Lizzie  and  I  went  a  little  in  advance  of  Richard  andj 
John  Thompson,  the  latter  of  whom  said  something  in  a  low 
tone  about  hoops  and  the  space  they  occupied.  This  remark 
shocked  me  inexpressibly;  but  Richard  didn't  seem  to  mind  it 
at  all.  As  we  passed  the  front  door,  the  cool  night  wind — for 
it  was  evening — blew  over  my  'face,  reminding  me  of  the 
South,  it  was  so  soft  and  balmy K  When  we  entered  the  par 
lor,  I  was  conscious  of  a  goodly  number  of  eyes  fixed  upon 
me,  and  as  I  crossed  over  to  a  vacant  spot  under  the  looking- 
glass,  I  heard  more  than  one  say  in  a  whisper,  "Isn't  she 
pretty?" — meaning  Lizzie,  I  suppose.  Then  a  man,  whom  I 
recognized  as  the  new  Episcopal  clergyman — I  believe  I've 
never  said  that  Richard  was  an  Episcopalian — stood  up  before 
us  and  said  something  about  "  You,  Richard,"  and  "  You, 
Rosa,"  after  which  Richard  placed  a  ring  upon  my  finger, 
squeezing  my  hand  a  very  little  as  he  did  so.  Then  followed 
a  short  prayer,  in  which  I  fancied  the  minister  made  a  mis 
take  in  our  names,  inasmuch  as  he  -spoke  of  Isaac  and  Rebecca 
Instead  of  Richard  and  Rosa.  This  being  done,  I  glanced  at 
the  bridegroom.  There  was  no  scowl  updn  his  forehead  now, 
and  I  could  see  the  light  shining  out  all  over  his  face  as  he 
bent  down  and  gently  whispered  "  my  wife." 

This  dispelled  the  clouds  at  once,  and  as  guest  after  guest 
crowded  round,  offering  their  congratulations,  while  Charlie 
and  John  Thompson  vied  with  each  other  in  repeating  my 
new  name,  I  began  to  realize  that  I  was  no  longer  Rosa  I  ^? 
bat  Mrs.  Bichard  Delafieid. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

SUNNY   BANK. 

FOE  a  few  days  we  lingered  at  my  mother's  fireside,  i.  A 
then,  with  the  fall  of  the  first  snowfiake,  we  left  for  OUT 
Southern  home;  Richard  promising  my  mother,  who  was  loath 
to  give  me  -up,  that  when  the  summer  birds  came  back  and 


MEADOW    tfKOGX.  .  24& 

the  roses  were  booming  again  by  the  door,  he  would  bring  his 
Rosa  to  breathe  once  more  the  air  of  her  native  hills.  We 
stopped  at  New  York,  Philadelphia,  Baltimore,  and  Wash 
ington,  and  it  was  not  until  the  holidays  were  passed  that  we 
landed  at  last  at  Charleston  and  took  the  cars  for  W — •— , 
which  we  reached  about  dark. 

With  a  loud  cry  of  joy,  Bill,  who  was  waiting  for  us,  wel 
comed  back  his  master,  and  then  almost  crushing  my  fingers 
*  in  his  big  black  hand,  said,  with  a  sly  wink,  which  he  meant 
should  be  very  expressive,  "  I  know  now  what  mars'r  killed 
dem  hosses  for!"  at  the  same  time  making  some  apology  for 
the  really  sorry-looking  animals  he  was  compelled  to  drive  in 
the  place  of  the  deceased  Ferdinand  and  Frederic.  As  we 
drove  through  the  town,  I  could  not  help  contrasting  my  pres 
ent  feelings  with  those  of  the  year  before,  when  I  thought  I 
was  leaving  it  forever.  Then,  weary,  sick,  and  wretched,  I 
had  looked  through  blinding  tears  toward  Sunny  Bank,  which 
was  now  my  home,  while  at  my  side,  with  his  arm  round  me^ 
was  its*owner — my  husband. 

"  You  tremble,  Rosa,"  said  he,  as  we  drew  near  the  house, 
and  he  bid  me  be  calmer,  saying  the  meeting  between  mysell 
and  his  sister  would  soon  be  over. 

But  it  was  not  that  which  I  dreaded.  It  was  the  presenta 
tion  to  his  servants,  to  whom  I  bore  the  formidable  relation 
of  mistress,  and  for  whose  good  opinion  I  cared  far  more  than 
I  did  for  that  of  the  haughty  Mrs.  Lansing.  Something  like 
this  I  said  to  Richard,  who  assured  me  that  his  household 
would  love  me  because  I  was  his  wife,  if  for  no  other  reason, 
and  thus  I  found  it  to  be.  As  we  drove  into  the  yard,  we 
were  surprised  at  seeing  the  house  brilliantly  lighted,  while 
through  the  open  windows  forms  of  many  persons  were  seeo 
>  noving  to  and  fro. 

In  a  displeased  tone  of  voice  Richard  said,  "  It  is  Angeline's 
\.vork,  and  I  do  not  like  it,  for  you  need  rest,  and  are  too 
(much  fatigued  to  see  any  one  to-night,  but  I  suppose  it  can 
not  be  avoided.  Ho,  Bill,"  he  called  to  the  driver,  "  who  is 
here?" 

"  Some  ob  de  quality,"  answered  Bill,  adding  that  "  Mis* 
Angeline  done  'vite  'em  to  see  de  bride." 

"  She  might  at  least  have  consulted  my  wishes,"  said  Rich 
ard,  while  my  heart  sunk  within  me  at  being  obliged  to  meet 
strangers  in  my  jaded  condition. 

Mrs.  Lansing,  it  seems,  had  in  her  mind  a  new  piano  for 
Lina,  their  present  one  being  rather  old-fashioned,  and  as  the 
surest  means  of  procuring  oni,£he  thought  t<?  please  her 


.  MEADOW    BEOOK. 

brother  by  noticing  his  bride.  So  in  her  zeal  she  rathat 
jverdid  the  matter,  inviting  to  Sunny  Bank  many  of  the  vil 
lagers,  some  of  whom  were  friendly  to  me  and  some  were  not, 
though  all,  I  believe,  felt  curious  to  see  how  the  "  plebeian 
Yankee  " — thus  Ada  termed  me — would  demean  herself  as 
the  wife  of  a  Southern  planter. 

Dusky  faces,  with  wnite,  shining  eyes,  peered  round  the 
corner  of  the  building  as  the  carriage  stopped  before  the  door, 
and  more  than  one  whisner  reached  me.  "  Bat's  she — de 
B.ew  miss,  dat  mars'r's  liftuV  so  keerfully." 

Upon  the  piazza  stood  Mrs.  Lansing,  her  face  wreathed  ic 
smiles,  while  at  her  side,  in  flowing  white  muslin,  were  A<j,a 
and  Lina,  the  former  of  whom  sprung  gayly  dofrn  the  steps, 
and  with  well-feigned  joy  threw  herself  into  the  arms  of  her 
guardian,  who,  after  kissing  her  affectionately,  presented  her 
to  me,  saying,  "  Will  Ada  be  a  sister  to  my  wife?" 

"  Anything  for  your  sake,"  answered  Ada,  with  rather 
more  emphasis  on  your  than  was  quite  pleasing  to  me. 

Mrs.  Lansing  came  next,  and  there  was  something  o*f  hau 
teur  in  her  manner  as  she  advanced,  for  much  as  she  desired 
to  please  her  brother,  she  was  not  yet  fully  prepared  to  meet 
me  as  an  equal.  But  Richard  knew  the  avenue  to  her  heart, 
and  as  he  placed  my  hand  in  hers,  he  said,  "  For  the  sake  of 
Jessie  you  will  love  my  bride,  I  am  sure." 

It  was  enough.  Jessie  was  forgotten  by  many  who  had 
wept  bitterly  when  first  they  heard  the  sad  news  of  her  death; 
but  in  the  mother's  heart  there  was  an  aching  void,  and  as  if 
the  gentle,  blue-eyed  child  were  pleading  for  me  from  her  lit 
tle  grave,  the  proud  woman's  eyes  were  moist  with  tears  as 
she  said,  "  Yes,  for  Jessie's  sake  do  I — I — "  she  paused,  for 
with  that  sacred  name  upon  her  lips,  even  she  could  not  utter 
a  falsehood  and  say,  "  I  love  you,"  so  she  qualified  it,  and 
after  a  moment  continued,  "  I  will  learn  to  love  you,  Rosa,, 
for  such  I  know  would  be  our  angel  Jessie's  wish." 

From  Lina  I  expected  no  demonstration.  She  was  too 
selfish,  too  listless  to  care  for  any  one,  so  when  she  coolly 
shook  my  hand  and  called  me  Mrs.  Delafield,  I  was  quite  sat 
isfied,  particularly  as  the  next  moment  Halbert  caught  me 
round  the  neck,  shouting  out  a  noisy  but  genuine  welcome  to 
his  aunt  Rosa,  and  telling  me  "he  was  mighty  glad  I'd  come 
back  to  stay  for  good." 

"  You  have  quite  a  party/'  said  Richard  to  his  sister  as  we 
entered  the  spacious  hall,  I  shrinking  behind  so  as  to  hide  my 
self  from  the  curious  eyes  which  I  knew  were  scanning  mv 
dusty  traveling-dress. 


BROOK. 

"  Only  a  few  friends,  who  I  thought  would  be  glad  to  meet 
Alias  Lee — I  beg  pardon — your  wife/'  she  hastily  added  as  she 
saw  the  gathering  frown  upon  his  brow. 

With  a  look  in  his  eye  which  made  her  quail,  he  said, 
"  Never  make  that  mistake  again,  Angeline."  (And  she 
never  did.)  "  Rosa  is  too  much  exhausted  to  appear  in  the 
parlor  to-night,"  he  continued,  as  we  entered  my  room — OUT 
room — the  pleasant,  tasteful  apartment  which  I  once  thought 
had  been  fitted  up  for  Ada.  "  You  ought  to  have  had  moie 
ta-ct  than  to  invite  company  on  the  first  night  of  my  arrival— 
when  you  must  have  known  how  weary  Eosa  would  be.  She 
doesn't  look  like  herself,  so  pale  and  way-worn,"  he  continued, 
himself  removing  my  bonnet  and  tenderly  stroking  my  aching 
head. 

Nothing  would  please  Ada  better  than  to  present  me  just 
as  I  was,  pale  and  jaded,  with  dark  rims  beneath  my  eyes,  in 
duced  by  the  severe  headache  from  which  I  was  really  suffer 
ing.  It  would  show  her  own  charms  to  greater  advantage, 
she  thought,  as  she  glanced  at  an  opposite  mirror  and  saw  the 
contrast  between  us. 

"  Oh,  Eichard,"  she  said,  pleadingly,  fi  pray  don't  object 
to  her  going  down;  it  wouldn't  be  polite,  and  then  they  are  all 
dying  to  see  her." 

"  She  is  too  tired  to  present  herself  just  now  to  people  with 
whom  she  has  only  a  slight  acquaintance.  How  could  you 
expect  her  to  do  so,  Ada?  Besides,  how  would  some  of  them 
receive  her?" 

"  Why,  that's  plain  enough;  Mrs.  Eichard  Delafield  is  a 
very  different  personage  from  Miss  Lee,  gov— 

'"  Ada  /"  sternly  interposed  my  husband,  "  never  a  remark 
like  that  in  my  presence.  ' 

"  Why,  Uncle  Dick,"  said  Ada,  smothering  her  anger  and 
winding  her  white  arms  round  his  neck,  "how  you  frighten 
me.  I  didn't  mean  anything,  only  I  do  want  Eosa  to  go  down 
•o  much — can't  you,  dear?"  and  she  turned  toward  me. 

With  her,  I  felt  that  it  would  hardly  be  polite  to  refuse,  so 
I  replied  that  "  after  a  cup  of  tea  and  half  an  hour's  rest,  I 
would  try  to  do  so." 

Supper  was  brought  to  our  room,  the  servant  almost  touch 
ing  her  knee  to  the  floor,  so  low  was  her  obeisance  to  the 
"  new  miss."  As  I  have  once  before  remarked,  my  head  was 
aching  dreadfully,  and  as  I  looked  at  the  soft,  downy  pillows 
which  lay  piled  upon  the  snowy  bed  in  the  adjoining  room,  I 
thought  how  much  rather  I  would  throw  myself  among  them 
than  join  the  gay  company  below.-  But  it  could  not  be,  and 


848  MEADOW    BROOK. 

with  something  like  tears  in  the  eound  of  my  voice,  I  asked 
Richard  to  send  up  my  trunks. 

Closely  inspecting  me  for  a  moment,  he  said:  "  There  is 
no  necessity  for  you  to  dress.  You  look  well  enough  just  as 
you  are,  and  you  must  not  fatigue  yourself  any  more.  I  shall 
get  you  excused  in  a  little  while,  and  some  time  after  you  are 
thoroughly  rested,  Angeline  shall  give  a  .Urge  parly  at  he? 
own  house,  where  you'll  have  an  opportunity  to  display  ail 
the  '  fixin's/  "  and  he  laughed,  thinking,  I  suppose,  he  had 
said  something  smart. 

My  dress  was  a,  dark-blue,  merino,  trimmed  on  the  basque 
*nd  sleeves  with  black  velvet.  It  fitted  neatly,  and  was,  1 
knew,  unusually  becoming;  so  after  arranging  my  curls  and 
donning  a  clean  linen  collar,  I  took  my  husband's  arm  and 
went  down  to  the  drawing-room,  where  I  found  about  forty 
people  assembled.  With  a  few  of  them  I  was  already  ac 
quainted,  while  the  majority  were  only  known  to  me  by  sight; 
for  though  I  had  often  seen  them  at  Cedar  Grove,  they  had 
not  thought  it  worth  their  while  to  notice  a  mere  governess. 
Now,  however,  as  Ada  had  said,  matters  were  changed,  and 
Richard  Delafield' s  wife  could  not  be  slighted  with  impunity. 
Consequently  I  was  for  a  time  overwhelmed  with  compliments 
and  attentions;  some  with  whom  I  had  never  before  spoken,' 
expressing  their  delight  at  seeing  me  back  again,  while  otheifl 
said  that  a  bride  was  just  what  was  wanting  to  give  eclat  t<? 
the  winter  gayeties. 

Close  to  my  side  kept  Ada,  assuming  a  kind  o£  patronizmp1 
manner  and  answering  for  me  whenever  she  thought  the  con 
versation  beyond  my  depth.  Of  course  she  threw  me  quite  in 
the  shade,  and  in  a  measure  she  had  tier  reward,  for  sue,  as 

well  as  I,  heard  a  lady,  a  stranger  in  W •,  say,  "  How  much 

more  beautiful  Mis&  Montrose  is  than  the  bride.  I  wonder 
$!r.  Delafield  did  not  prefer  her." 

/•  There  was  a  look  of  exultation  on  Ada's  face  as  her  eyef 
met  mine ;  but  it  passed  away  as  we  heard  the  answer  made 
by  Miss  Porter,  a  lady  whom  Ada  thought  exceedingly  aris= 
tocratic.  "  Yes/'  said  she,  "  Miss  Montrose  is  rather  pretty, 
but  she  is  fading  fast;  and  I  suppose  Mr.  Delafield  preferred 
the  freshness  of  youth  to  the  decay  of  beauty,  and  for  my  part. 
I  approve  his  choice,  and  think  her  a  very  pretty  little  creat 
ure." 

I  glanced  at  my  husband.  He,  too,  heard  the  remark,  ano 
it  pleased  him,  I  knew,  while  Ada  crossed  over  to  the  opposite 
side  of  the  room,  and  I  eaw  her  no  more,  for  Richard  SOOB 


MEADOW    BBOOK.  241 

asked  for  me  to  be  excused — a  request  which  the  company 
readily  granted,  saying,  "  I  must  of  course  be  tired." 

It  was  late  when  Richard  came  up  to  our  room,  and  I  saw 
in  a  moment  that  something  was  the  matter,  for  his  face  wore 
the  dark,  hard  look  it  sometimes  did  when  he  was  disturbed. 
I  did  not  then  ask  the  cause  of  his  annoyance,  but  afterward 
i  learned  that  the  moment  the  guests  were  gone,  Ada,  whose 
feelings  were  a  good  deal  ruffled,  not  only  at  the  attention  I 
had  received,  but  also  at  the  remark  of  Miss  Porter,  com 
menced  censuring  my  husband  for  having  suffered  me  to  ap 
pear  hi  the  drawing-room  in  my  traveling-dress.  "  'Twas  an 
insult  to  the  company/'  she  said,  "  and  they  could  excuse  i . 
on  no  other  grounds  save  the  supposition  that  I  was  entirely 
ignorant  of  etiquette  in  any  form.  I  didn't  blame  her  so 
much,"  said  she,  "  for  I  suppose  she  didn't  know  any  better, 
but  I  was  astonished  at  you. 

Ada  had  quite  forgotten  herself,  or  else  sne  misunderstood 
the  man  with  whom  she  had  to  deal.  Very  quietly  he  list 
ened,  but  the  storm  was  gathering  within,  and  when  she  had 
finished,  it  burst  upon  her  with  a  vengeance;  he  bidding  her 
never  again,  either  m  his  presence  or  the  presence  of  any  one, 
say  aught  disparagingly  of  his  wife.  "  Her  actions  shall  not 
be"  questioned  by  you,"  said  he,  "  and  you  shall  treat  her  with 
deference,  for  in  every  respect  she  is  your  superior,  save  that 
of  age,  and  there,  I  admit,  you  have  the  advantage." 

This  decided  the  matter  at  once,  for  Ada  was  afraid  of  him; 
and  though  she  could  not  conceal  her  dislike  from  me,  she 
was  in  his  presence  always  kind,  considerate,  and  sometimes, 
^ven  affectionate  in  her  demeanor  toward  me,  coming  at  las! 
to  call  him  Uncle  Dick,  in  imitation  of  Halbert,  and  me  Aunt 
Rosa,,  particularly  if  there  were  any  strangers  present. 

The  morning  following  my  arrival  I  was  formally  presented 
to  the  servants,  who  received  me.  with  many  demonstrations 
*f  joy,  the  older  portion  "  bressin'  de  Lord  they  had  lived  to 
see  Mars' r  Richard  look  so  happy  and  peart  like  as  he  did  with 
the  new  miss."  Only  one  eyed  me  at  all  askance,  and  that 
was  Aunt  Hagar,  the  old  housekeeper,  who  saw  in  me  a  rival 
— one  who  would  henceforth  wear  jingling  at  her  belt  thJ 
huge  bunch  of  keys,  which  for  so  long  a  time  had  been  tc  her 
a  badge  of  honor,  Then,  too,  the  old  lady,  like  my  other  new 
relatives,  had  some  fears  "  that  Miss  Rosa  didn't  'long  to  the 
quality,  and  that  Mars'r  Richard  had  done  h'isted  hissclf  dowr. 
a  peg  or  so  by  marryin'  one  who  was  brought  up  in  de  Free 
States,  whar  dar  warn't  nary  nigger  to  fotch  'em 
water  or  fan  when  de  sum  was  roastin'  hot." 


250  MEADOW    BKOOK. 

With,  a  look  of  injured  dignity,  which  made  the  steeple  of  a 
turban  on  her  head  tremble,  she  undid  from  her  waist  the 
bunch  of  keys,  and  offering  them  to  me,  said,  "  I  'spects 
these  are  yourn  now." 

I  drew  back,  for  to  me  there  was  nothing  pleasing  in  the 
idea  of  being  disturbed  every  time  a  lump  of  sugar,  a  piece  of 
coal,  or  a  pan  of  flour  was  wanted,  so  I  said,  "  If  my  husband 
is  willing  I'd  rather  you'd  keep  them  yourself,  as  I  know  you/ 
are  trusty." 

Hagar's  face  brightened  perceptibly,  and  I  am  induced  to 
think  she  forgot  in  a  measure  my  misfortune  in  having  been 
born  in  a  Free  State.  At  all  events,  I  have  not  now  a  more 
devoted  servant  than  Hagar,  who  declares  me  to  be  a  "  per 
fect  lady,"  and  who  has  more  than  once  ventured  the  trea 
sonable  remark  that  "  if  all  de  Free  State  folks  is  like  Miss 
Rosa,  she'll  be  boun'  she'd  like  to  live  thar!"  Regularly 
each  morning  she  conies  to  me  and  asks  "  what  Miss  would 
like  for  dinner,"  and  regularly  each  morning  Miss  answers, 
u  Dear  me*,  Hagar,  I  don't  know;  get  what  you  like;"  feeling 
confident  the  while  that  the  programme  is  already  made  out; 
and  that  any  material  suggestion  from  me  would  be  super 
fluous.  So  much  for  mistress  and  slave. 

With  his  usual  generosity,  my  husband  made  all  of  the 
uegroes  presents  in  honor  of  his  marriage;  offering  for  Bill's 
acceptance  a  silver  watch,  which  he  had  purchased  for  him  in 
Charleston,  Taking  the  timepiece  in  his  hand,  Bill  examined 
it  attentively,  held  it  to  his  ear,  put  it  in  his  pocket,  looked 
at  the  key,  and  then  handing  it  back  to  his  master,  said,  * '  no 
'fense,  mars'r,  but  if  you  please,  thar  s  somethin'  I'd  like  bet 
ter." 

"  Very  well,  what  is  it?"  a,«ked  Richard;  and  Bill  an 
swered,  "  Why,  you  see,  mars'r^  now  dem  bosses,  Fred  and 
Ferd,  has  never  had  proper  '"spect  showed  to  thar  memory. 
To  be  sure,  I  wears  a  weed  on  my  hat  an'  I  'fused  to  jine  in 
de  dance  fodder  night,  but  that's  nothin'.  Ferd  had  too 
high  blood  ir  him  to  keer  for  an  ole  nigger's  mournin5,  an* 
what  I  wants  is  for  you  to  paint  de-  stable  black,  an'  that  I 
reckons  will  show  'em  proper  'tentiori.  What  do  you  say, 
Miss  Rosa?" 

As  the  horses  had  fallen  in  my  cause,  I  readily  espoused 
Bill's  project  for  the  novelty  of  the  thing,  if  nothing  else;  and 
:hould  any  one  of  my  readers  visit  Sunny  Bank,  whidi  I  wish 
they  may,  they  will  see  the  stables  wearing  a  hue  as  dark  as 
Bill  himself,  who  has  now  a  pair  of  iron-grays,  which  he  calls 
Richard  and  Rosa,  notwithstanding  that  both  are  of  f,he  mas- 


MEADOW    BROOK,  5 

guline  gender.  These,  particularly  the  latter,  are  the  pride 
of  Bill's  heart,  and  when  the  year  of  mourning  has  expired, 
he  intends,  he  says,  to  have  the  stable  painted  yaller,  that 
being  the  color  of  a  young  girl  who  has  lately  made  sad  haw<3 
with  his  affections. 

Here  I  may  as  well  say  that  Mrs.  Lansing  managed  until 
she  procured  the  desired  piano,  which  came  in  company  with 
another,  a  much  nicer  one,  on  the  front  of  which  was  in 
scribed  "  Rosa,  from  her  husband."  In  return  for  her  broth 
er's  gift,  Mrs.  Lansing  gave  a  large  party,  where  I  had  an 
opportunity  of  wearing  my  bridal  drc£s,  together  with  a  costly 
set  of  diamonds  which  I  found  upon  my  table  when  I  went 
up  to  make  my  toilet.  It  did  not  need  the  simple  word 
"  Richard  "  on  a  bit  of  paper  to  tell  me  whence  they  came, 
and  the  tears  started  to  my  eyes  when  I  thought  how  kind  he 
was,  wlfce  I  was  conscious  of  a  glow  of  pride,  when  I  saw  lit 
tle  Rosa  Lee  flashing  with  diamonds,  which  encircled  her 
arms  and  neck,  and  shone  among  the  curls  of  her  hair.  Ber  • 
tha,  my  tasteful  waiting-maid — foi  I  am  getting  quite  South- 
ernized — pronounced  me  beautiful,  as  she  gave  trie  finishing 
stroke  to  my  toilet,  while  one,  for  whose  judgment  I  cared 
still  more,  and  who  all  the  time  had  been  conning  his  evening 
paper,  apparently  oblivious  to  the  presence  of  white  satin, 
point  lace,  orange  flowers  and  diamonds,  responded,  "  Yes, 
Bertha,  your  young  mistress  is  beautiful." 

Dress  does  make  a  vast  deal  of  difference  in  one's  looks, 
and  if  that  night  two  thirds  of  the  three  hundred  particulai 
friends  whose  hands  I  shook  pronounced  me  ''beautiful, 
handsome,  charming,  lovely,"  and  all  that,  it  was  owinj* 
chiefly.  I  think,  to  the  fitness  of  my  robes  and  the  brilliancy 
of  my  diamonds.  These  last  were  the  subject  of  much  re" 
mark,  they  being  the  finest  which,  had  ever  beei  worn  in 

W ,  Ada  very  good-naturedly  saying,  "  she  1  >ped  mj 

good  fortune  wouldn't  quite  turn  my  head." 

Mrs.  Lansing's  party  was  followed  by  many  more,  and  ere 
I  was  aware  of  it,  Mrs.  Richard  Delafield  was  quite  a  belle— 
what  she  said,  what  she  did,  and  what  she  wore  being  pro 
nounced  au  fait  by  the  fashionables  of  W .  Upon  all 

this  Ada  looked  jealously,  never  allowing  an  opportunity  tc 
pass  without  speaking  slightingly  of  me,  though  always  care' 
ful  that  Richard  should  not  know  of  it.  In  his  presence  she 
was  vastly  kind,  sitting  at  my  feet,  calling  me  "  aunty,'*'  and 
treating  me  as  if  I  had  been  twenty  years  her  senior.  At  first 
she  spent  much  more  of  her  time  at  Sunny  Bank  than  was  at 
all  agreeable  to  me,  and  I  was  not  sorry  when  a  little  incident 


253  MEADOW    BROOK. 

occurred  which  in  a  measure  tended  to  keep  her  away.  She 
had  always  been  in  the  habit  of  treating  my  husband  with  a 
great  show  of  affection,  and  now  that  he  was,  as  she  said , 
u*an  old  married  man,"  she  seemed  to  think  it  no  matter  how 
much  she  caressed  him.  Even  /  dared  not  seat  myself  upon 
his  knee  as  coolly  as  she  would,  and  her  temerity  troubled  me^ 
particularly  as  I  knew  it  was  annoying  to  him.  This  I  must 
have  manifested  in  some  way,  for  one  morning,  when  as  usuai 
she  entered  our  room  without  knocking,  and  perched  herself 
on  Richard's  knee,  he  pushed  her  off,  saying,  half  in  earnest, 
half  in  jest,  "  Don't  aet  so  foolish,  Ada,  you  make  me  sick, 
for  now  that  I  have  Eosa  to  pet  me  I  can  easily  dispense  with 
you?  caresses,  which  are  rather  too  much  of  a  good  thing." 

Ada  was  angry,  and  with  a  little  hateful  laugh,  she  said, 
turning  to  me, ."  Jealous,  I  suppose,  and  have  read  vour  bet 
ter  half  a  lecture  on  propriety.  When  /  marry,  i  trust  I 
shall  have  faith  enough  in  my  husband's  love  for  me  not  to 
care  even  if  he  does  chance  to  look  at  some  one  else." 

I  knew  Richard  would  vindicate  my  cause,  so  I  remained 
silent  while  he  answered,  "  You  do  Rosa  injustice,  for  never 
have  we  exchanged  a  word  conceining  the  manner  you  have 
assumed  toward  me,  and  which  I  should  suppose  your  own 
sense  of  propriety  would  condemn.  Were  you  my  wife 
'twould  be  different." 

"  Your  wife,"  interrupted  Ada,  with  bitter  scorn;  "  I  am 
not  your  wife,  thank  fortune,  neither  did  I  ever  aspire  to  be, 
and  I  have  yet  to  see  the  man  whom  I  would  for  a  moment 
think  of  marrying." 

There  was  not  the  slightest  cause  for  this  speech,  but  Ada 


ley  when  you  engaged  yourself 

He  had  heard  the  whole  story  at  Meadow  Brook;  but  this 
was  the  first  time  he  had  hinted  it  to  Ada,  who  turned  very 
pale,  and  without  another  word  left  the  room,  going  back  to 
Cedar  Grove,  where  for  three  weeks  she  pouted  and  cried 
alternately.  At  the  end  of  that  time,  however,  she  concluded 
it  better  to  "  make  up;"  so  she  wrote  a  note  to  us  both,  ask 
ing  my  pardon  for  her  rudeness,  and  begging  my  husband  to 
forgive  her  for  the  many  falsehoods  she  had  told  concerning 
her  engagement  with  Herbert,  which  she  now  frankly  con 
fessed.  Of  course  we  forgave  her,  and  as  she  was  not  one  who 
remembered  anything  long,  she  soon  began  to  visit  us  as 
ot  old,  though  she  no  longer  sat  on  my  husband's  knee  or 
wound  her  arms  round  his  neck.  His  rebuke  did  her  good, 


MEADOW    3HOOK. 

and  she  profited  by  it,  while  the  fact  that  he  was  fully  aware 
of  the  deception  she  had  practiced  tended  to  humble  her,  and 
on  rainy  days,  when  Richard  was  necessarily  away  from  home, 
I  found  her  quite  an  agreeable  companion. 

Thus  the  winter  and  spring  passed  away,  and  my  mother's 
-letters  began  to  grow  urgent  for  my  return,  but  for  various 
reasons  Richard  did  not  think  it  advisable  for  me  to  undertake 
so  long  a  journey,  and  as  Sunny  Bank  was  all  the  world  to 
me,  I  very  cheerfully  consented  to  wait  until  another  season 
ere  I  visited  my  New  England  home.  About  this  time  I  was 
again  seized  with  my  olden  desire  for  authorship,  induced  in 
a  measure  by  my  knowing  how  much  Mrs.  Lansing  reverenced 
anything  which  savored  of  a  book-writer.  To  be  an  author 
ess,  then,  and  make  her  proud  to  own  me  as  her  sister,  was  a 
subject  over  which  I  grew  pale  and  "  nervous/'  Richard  said, 
while  the  negroes  called  me  "  fidgety,"  and  wondered  "  what 
done  ailed  Miss  Rosa."  At  last,  after  many  wakeful  nights 
and  restless  days,  after  sick  headaches,  nervous  headaches, 
and  all  kinds  of  headaches,  the  plan  was  marked  out  for  a 
story.  /  would  be  the  heroine  myself  and  give  to  the  world 
as  much  of  my  history  as  I  thought  proper,  and  if  I  failed — 
if  no  railroad,  steam-boat,  or  stage-coach  passenger  ever  point 
ed  me  out  as  "  the  woman  who  wrote  that  book,"  or  if  my 
publishers  "  respectfully  declined  "  another  bearing  my  sig 
nature,  I  thought  I  should  still  have  the  satisfaction  of  know 
ing  I  ha'd  tried  to  benefit  the  world,  and  I  felt  almost  sure 
fhat  in  Meadow  Brook  at  least  there  were  people  stupid  enough 
to  buy  my  book  and  possibly  to  like  it,  just  because  little  Rosa 
Lee,  who  used  to  climb  fences  and  hunt  hens'  eggs  with  them 
in  her  childish  days,  had  written  it.  So,  one  sunny  morning 
in  June,  when  my  husband  had  left  me  to  be  gone  for  two 
.weeks,  I  shut  myself  up  in  my  room,  donned  a  loose  wrapper, 
Vucked  back  my  curls,  opened  my  writing-desk,  took  out  a 
quire  of  foolscap,  and  had  just  written  *'  Meadow  Brook," 
when  the  bell  rang  and  Bertha  announced  "  a  lady  in  the  par 
lor."  With  a  deep  sigh,  as  I  thought  how  "  we  writers  disliked 
to  be  disturbed,"  I  arranged  my  curls,  resumed  my  cambric 
morning-gown,  and  went  down  to  receive  my  visitor,  telling 
her  that  I  was  very  well;  that  the  weather  was  very  warm;  that 
I  expected  to  be  very  lonely  without  my  husband;  that  her  bon 
net  was  very  pretty;  that  I  didn't  think  negroes  as  annoying 
and  hateful  as  she  did;  after  which  she  tookner  leave;  and  I 
went  back  to  my  room,  this  time  locking  the  door  and  writing 
':he  first  chapter  of  my  book  before  the  bell  rang  for  dinner. 
To  Bertha  I  imparted  mj  secret,  reading  to  her  each  page 


MEADOW    BROOK. 

as  1  wrote  it,  and  though  she  was  not,  perhaps,  the  most  appreciative 
auditor  one  could  have,  she  was  certainly  the  most  attentive  and  ap 
proving.  It  is  true  she  objected  to  my  describing  myself  as  such  a 
homely  child.  "  Jest  tell  de  truf  and  done  wid  it,"  she  said;  where 
upon  I  assured  her  that  I  had  told  the  truth;  and  then  she  suggested 
that  in  order  to  make  amends  for  my  ugliness  I  should  represent  my 
self  as  having  been  "  peart  like  and  smart."  So,  if  the  reader  thinks 
I  have  made  myself  too  precocious,  the  fault  is  chargeable  to  Bertha,  J. 
for  1  did  it  to  please  her.  * 

For  two  weeks  1  wrote,  scarcely  allowing  myself  a  moment's  rest, 
and  Bertha,  who,  when  she  saw  how  it  wore  upon  me,  began  at  last  to 
expostulate.  "Thar  wasn't  no  'casion,"  she  said,  "to  kill  myself, 
when  thar  was  heaps  o'  niggers  kickin'  round  under  foot,  and  if  miss 
'sisted  on  writin'  a  book,  why  didn't  she  make  some  of  dem  lazy  crit- 
tera  do  it  for  her?" 

At  the  end  of  two  weeks  Richard  returned,  asking  me  as  he  looked 
in  my  face  "  what  was  the  matter,  and  how  I  had  spent  my  time?" 

Before  I  could  answer,  Bertha,  who  was  quite  incensed  against  my 
book,  said,  "  she's  done  writin'  a  spellin'-book,  or  somethin',  and  sits 
up  'most  all  night.  I  tell  her  how  'twill  kill  her,  but  she  pay  no  'ten- 
tion." 

The  secret  was  out,  and  with  many  blushes  I  pleaded  guilty,  and 
producing  my  manuscript,  watched  Richard  while  he  read  it.  Over 
the  first  chapter,  where  he  thought  I  was  going  to  die,  he  cried — or 
that  is,  tears  came  to  his  eyes;  the  thiid  he  skipped  partially,  the  next 
ertirely,  and  the  next  ana  the  next — I  hope  the  reader  has  not  done 
likewise;  but  when  h.e  found  Doctor  Clayton  he  read  every  word,  his 
forehead  tying  itself  up  in  knots,  which,  however,  cleared  away  the 
moment  he  came  upon  himself  at  the  theater,  though  1  believe  he 
didn't  feel  much  complimented  by  my  description  of  his  personal  ap 
pearance. 

There,  just  as  he  was  introduced,  the  story  ended,  and  fortunate  was 
it  for  me  that  it  did  so,  for  he  declared  I  should  not  write  another  word 
after  1  got  through  with  him;  and  I  promised  that  I  wouldn't,  mentally 
resolving  that  it  should  be  some  time  before  I  reached  that  point.  This, 
then,  my  reader,  is  the  reason  why  I  said  no  more  of  him,  when  first  I. 
piesented  him  to  3'our  notice,  but  left  him  for  awhile  in  mystery.  I 
knew  Richard  was  anxious  to  hear  what  did  become  of  himself,  and  I 
fancied  that  if  I  wrote  considerable  befoie  1  said  anything  very  definite 
of  him,  he  would  be  more  likely  to  let  me  finish  the  book,  as  he  would 
not  wish  me  to  waste  so  much  paper  for  nothing.  As  the  sequel, 
proved  1  was  right.  Regularly  each  day  I  wrote,  Richard  always 
stopping  me  the  moment  he  thought  I  was  tired,  and  invariably  break-, 
ing  me  off  in  the  wrong  place,  so  if  there  should  be  any  parts  of  my 
etory  which  do  not  join  together  smoothly,  you  may  know  it  was  there 
that  Richard  took  my  pen  from  my  band,  or  hid  the  inkstand. 

Toward  the  middle  of  August,  invitations  came  for  us  to  attend  a 
large  wedding  in  Charleston.  I  was  exceedingly  anxious  to  go,  having 
heard  much  of  the  bride,  who  was  a  distant  relative  of  my  husband, 
and  though  both  he  and  Mrs.  Lansing  raised  every  conceivable  objec 
tion  to  my  leaving  home,  I  adroitly  put  aside  all  their  arguments,  and 
ere  Richard  fully  realized  that  he  had  been  coaxed  into  doing  some 
thing  he  had  fully  determined  not  to  do,  we  were  rattling  along  in  a 
dusty  Charleston  omnibus  toward  one  of  the  largest  hotels,  where 
rooms  had  been  engaged  for  us.  The  morning  after  our  arrival,  I 


MEADOW    BROOK.  355 

went  Into  the  public  parlor,  and  as  I  seated  myself  at  the  piano  I  saw 
just  across  the  room,  near  an  open  window,  a  quiet,  intelligent-look, 
mg  lady,  apparently  twenty-six  or  twenty-seven  years  of  age,  and  near 
her,  sporting  upon  the  carpet,  was  a  beautiful  little  girl,  with  flowing 
curls  and  soft,  dark  eyes,  which  instantly  riveted  my  attention,  they 
were  so  like  something  I  had  seen  before. 

At  the  sound  of  the  music  she  came  to  my  side,  listening  attentively, 
and  when  I  had  finished,  she  laid  one  white,  chubby  hand  on  my  lap 
and  the  other  on  the  keys,  saying,  "  Please  play  again;  Rosa  like  tff 
hear  you." 

"  And  so  your  name  is  Rosa?"  I  answered;  "  Rosa  what?'* 

"Rosa  Lee  Clayton,  and  that's  my  new  ma,"  she  replied,  pointing 
foward  the  lady,  whose  usually  pale  cheek  was  for  an  instant  suffus«d 
vith  a  blush  such  as  brides  only  wear. 

1  knew  now  why  1  had  felt  interested  in  the  child.  It  was  the  fa 
ther  whom  I  saw  looking  at  me  through  the  eyes  of  brown,  and  taking 
the  little  creature  in  my  arms,  I  was  about  to  question  her  of  her  sire, 
when  an  increasing  glow  on  the  lady'js  cheek  and  a  footstep  in  the  hall 
told  me  he  was  coming. 

The  next  moment  he  stood  before  me— Doctor  Clayton— his  face  per 
fectly  unruffled  and  wearing  an  expression  of  content,  at  least,  if  not 
perfect  happiness.  I  was  conscious  of  a  faintness  stealing  over  me, 
but  by  a  strong  effort  I  shook  it  off,  and  rising  to  my  feet,  I  offered  him 
my  hand,  which  he  pressed,  saying,  "  This  is  indeed  a  surprise,  Rosa 
—I  beg  your  pardon,  Mrs.  Delafield,  I  suppose?" 

I  nodded  in  the  affirmative,  and  was  about  to  say  something  more, 
when  another  footstep  approached,  and  my  husband's  tall  figure  dark 
ened  the  door-way.  For  an  instant  they  both  turned  pale,  and  Doctor 
Clayton  grasped  the  piano  nervously;  but  the  shock  soon  passed  away, 
and  then  as  friend  meets  friend  after  a  brief  separation,  so  met  these 
two  men,  who  but  the  year  before  had  watched  together  over  my  pil 
low,  praying  the  one  that  I  might  live,  and  the  other  that  I  might  die. 

Wonderingly  the  little  girl  looked  up  into  her  father's  face,  and  pull 
ing  the  skirt  of  my  dress,  said,  "  who  is  the  lady,  pa,  with  the  pretty  " 
curls  so  much  like  mine?" 

Never  before,  I  believe,  did  I  like  Doctor  Clayton  as  I  did  at  that 
moment  when  I  saw  the  deep  tenderness  which  broke  over  his  features 
as  he  took  his  daughter  in  his  arms,  and  pressing  his  lips  to  her  fore 
head,  answered,  "It  is  Rosa  Lee,  my  child,  the  lady  roi  whom  you* 
were  named." 

"  Don't  you  love  her,  pa?  1  do,"  she  asked,  stretching  her  little  fat 
arms  toward  me. 

I  glanced  at  my  husband — his  brow  was  dark  as  midnight.  I  looked 
at  Doctor  Clayton;  there  was  a  slight  quivering  of  his  lips,  while  his 
wife  was  pale  as  a  water-lily,  and  then  I  burst  into  a  merry  laugh,  in 
which  the  gentlemen  soon  joined,  though  it  would  have  puzzled  us  all 
to  have  told  at  what  we  were  laughing. 

After  a  few  words  of  explanation  as  to  why  we  were  there,  Doctor 
Clayton  suddenly  remembered  himself,  and  leading  me  toward  the 
lady,  introduced  her  as  "  My  wife,  Mrs.  Clayton."  She  had  been  liv 
ing  in  Florida  with  my  cousin,  at  whose  house  they  were  married, 
about  two  weeks  before,  and  they  were  now  on  their  way  to  Boston, 
stopping  for  a  few  days  in  Charleston  to  see  the  city.  I  found  her  a 
very  quiet,  sensible  woman,  but  as  different  from  Dell  Thompson  or 
Rosa  Lee  as  a  person  well  could  be,  and  I  was  wondering  to  myself 


856  MEADOW    BROOK, 

how  it  was  possible  for  a  man  to  love  so  many  people  of  opposite  tem 
peraments,  when  she  said  something  about  New  England,  and  I  asked 
if  she  ever  were  there. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  answered;  "  I  was  born  there,  in  Wilbraham,  Mass. 
1  was  living  with  the  grandmother  of  the  first  Mis.  Clayton  at  ths  time 
of  her  death." 

•  In  a  moment  it  all  came  to  me.  Dell  had  told  me  of  Mabel  War- 
rener,  who  had  inherited  her  grandmother's  fortune,  and  now  she  sat 
there  before  me,  Mrs.  Clayton  second.  Surely  the  freaks  of  fortune 
are  wonderful.  Naturally  refined  and  intelligent,  Mabel  had  employed! 
a  part  of  her  money  in  giving  herself  a  good  education,  graduating  at| 
Mount  Holyoke  Female  Seminary,  and  going  thence  back  to  her  home 
in  Wilbraham,  which  she  had  fitted  up  with  much  taste,  and  where 
she  was  living  when  Doctor  Clayton  met  her  on  his  return  from  Geor 
gia.  Of  her  1hen  he  only  thought  as  of  a  pleasant,  agreeable  woman; 
but  when  time,  absence,  and  my  marriage  had  softened  the  keenness 
of  his  disappointment,  he  often  found  his  thoughts  wandering  toward 
the  fair  Mabel,  who,  upon  inquiry,  he  learned  had  gone  to  Florida. 
Rosa  needed  a  mother,  and  he  needed  a  wife;  so,  after  an  interchange 
of  letteis,  he  one  morning  started  with  his  little  girl  for  the  "  Land  of 
Flowers,"  where  neither  sickness,  nor  death,  nor  yet  a  Richard  Dela- 
fteld  came  between  him  and  his  bride.  They  seemed  very  happy,  for 
after  a  little  Doctor  Clayton  recovered  his  equanimity,  and  appeared 
perfectly  natural. 

Not  a  word,  however,  did  he  say  of  the  past,  or  in  any  way  allude 
to  Georgia,  except  once  when  he  asked  me  if  I  did  not  think  Rosa  re 
sembled  Jessie  in  a  measure.  I  had  thought  of  the  same  thing,  though 
Rosa's  eyes  were  darker  and  her  hair  more  of  a  chestnut  brown.  She 
was  a  sweet  little  creature,  and  if  anything  could  have  reconciled  me 
to  being  the  wife  of  Doctor  Clayton,  it  would  have  been  the  fact  that 
ehe  was  my  daughter.  But  as  I  contrasted  the  two  men,  as  my  eye  fell 
on  Doctor  Clayton's  handsome  face  and  curly  locks,  and  then  rested 
on  the  dark  features  and  raven  hair  of  Richard,  I  felt  that  in  him  there 
was  more  of  the  true,  the  noble  man,  and  my  heart  warmly  approved 
me  for  the  choice  I  had  made. 

Nearly  all  the  morning  we  sat  there  talking  on  indifferent  subjects, 
and  when  dinner  was  over,  Mrs.  Clayton  came  to  my  room,  staying  a 
long  time,  and  gaining  fast  in  my  good  opinion,  when  I  saw  how  kind 
and  friendly  she  was.  She  had  heard  the  whole  story,  for  she  told  me 
so,  holding  little  Rosa  upon  her  lap  and  smoothing  her  silken  curls. 

"  We  can  not  all  love  the  same  person,"  she  said  in  conclusion; 
**  and  I  am  so  glad  you  refused  him,  for  otherwise  he  would  not  have 
been  my  husband:"  and  her  quiet  eyes  lighted  up  with  a  look  of  hap 
piness  which,  plainer  than  words  could  express,  told  me  that  she  had 
brought  to  Doctor  Clayton  no  divided  affections. 

At  the  making  of  my  toilet  for  the  wedding  she  was  present,  aiding 
Bertha  greatly  by  her  own  tasteful  suggestions,  and  when  at  last  I  was 
dressed  with  perfect  childish  simplicity,  she  ran  foi  her  husband  "  to 
come  and  see  if  I  didn't  look  pretty." 

"  Mrs.  Delafield  was  always  pretty  to  me,"  was  the  doctor's  answer, 
and  that  was  all  he  said. 

They  were  to  leave  early  next  morning  before  I  would  be  up,  and 
so,  when  the  cairiage  was  announced,  we  went  to  bid  them  good-bye. 

"  May  I  kiss  your  wife?"  asked  the  doctor  of  my  hufband,  as  hf 
beld  my  han4. 


MEADOW    BROOK.  257 

''Certainly,  sir,"  an'swered  Richard,  "an  even  exchange  is  al 
ways  fair;"  and  instead  of  once,  he  kissed  the  blushing  Mabel  twice, 
which  of  course  gave  Doctor  Clayton  liberty  to  do  the  same  by  me. 

Suddenly  remembering  something  which  I  had  left  in  my  room,  I 
went  up  tor  it,  and  on  my  way  back  glanced  into  the  parlor  occupied 
by  Doctor  Clayton.  He  was>  seated  upon  the  sofa  by  the  side  of  his 
wife,  around  whose  waist  his  arm  was  affectionately  thrown,  while 
partly  on  his  lap  and  partly  upon  that  of  her  step-mother  was  little 
Rosa,  her  long  eyelashes  drooping  sleepily  over  her  eyes.  It  was  a 
beautiful  tableau,  and  whenever  I  think  of  Doctor  Clayton  now,  it  is 
as  1  last  saw  him,  happy  and  contented,  for  he  has  not  only  won  a 
most  excellent  wife,  but  also  secured  that  ten  thousand  dollars  after  ak 


CHAPTER  XXX11 

NOVEMBER  25TH. 

DEAR  READER,— Just  one  year  ago  to-night  the  orange  wreath  and 
bridal  veil  were  twined  among  my  curls,  and  with  a  loving  heart  I 
stood  up  before  the  man  of  God  and  took  upon  myself  the  vows  which 
made  me  Richard's  forever.  The  orange  flowers  are  faded  now,  and 
the  bridal  veil  looks  soiled  and  worn;  but  the  sunlight  of  happiness 
which  -shone  upon  me  when  first  he  called  me  his  wife  has  grown 
brighter  and  brighter  as  each  day  has  unfolded  to  me  some  new  virtue 
which  I  knew  not  that  he  possessed  when  he  became  my  husband. 

No  shadow,  however  slight,*has  ever  fallen  between  us,  for  though 
he  has  a  fiery  temper  and  an  indomitable  will,  they  are  both  under  per 
feet  control,  and  so  much  confidence  have  I  in  his  love  for  me,  that 
should  I  ever  in  any  way  come  in  collision  with  his  temper  or  his  will, 
I  have  faith  to  believe  I  could  bend  the  one  and  subdue  the  other. 
Every  comfort  and  luxury  which  affection  can  dictate  or  money  pro 
cure  has  been  gathered  round  me,  until  my  home  seems  to  me  a  second 
paradise. 

The  fervid  heat  of  summer  has  passed,  and  the  hazy  light  which  be 
tokens  the  fall  of  the  leaf  has  come.  On  the  northern  hills,  they  say, 
the  November  snows  have  already  fallen,  but  we  are  still  basking  in 
the  soft  sunlight  of  a  most  glorious  autumn;  and  as  I  write,  the  south 
wind  comes  in  through  the  open  window,  whispering  to  me  of  the  fad 
ing  flowers,  whose  perfume  it  gathered  as  it  floated  along.  Just  op- 
•posite  me,  in  a  willow  chair,  with  her  head  buried  in  a  towering  turban 
of  royal  purple;  sits  Juno,  a  middle-aged  woman,  nodding  to  the 
breeze,  which  occasionally  brushes  past  her  so  fast  that  she  lazily  opens 
'her  eyes,  and  with  her  long-heeled  foot  gives  a  jog  to  the  rosewood 
crib  wherein  lies  a  little  tiny  thing  which  was  left  here  five  weeks  ago 
to-day.  Oh,  how  odd  and  funny  it  seemed  when  Richard  first  laid  on 
my  arm  a  little  bundle  of  cambric  and  lace,  and  whispered  in  my  ear, 
*'  Would  you  like  to  see  our  baby?"  She  is  a  great  pet,  and  should 
this  book  ever  reach  so  far  as  Georgia,  Mrs.  Lansing,  I  am  sure,  will 
like  me  all  the  same,  for  her  words  and  manner  have.been  very  kind 
since  the  morning  when  I  said  to  Richard,  "  We  will  call  our  baby 
Jessie." 

So  Jessie  was  she  baptized,  Mrs.  Lansing's  tears  falling  like  rain  on 
the  face  of  the  unconscious  child,  which  she  folded  to  her  bosom  as 
tenderly  as  if  it  had  indeed  been  her  own  lost  Jessie  come  back  to  her 
again.  Upon  Ada  the  ai  rival  of  the  stranger  produced  a  novel  effect, 


&>&  &EADOW     BROOK. 

overwhelming*  uer  with  such  a  load  of  modesty  that  she  kept  out  of 
Richard's  way  nearly  two  weeks,  and  never  once  came  to  see  me  until 
I  was  sitting  up  in -my  merino  morning -gown,  which  she  had  embroid 
ered  for  me  herself.  Ada  has  a  very  nice  sense  of  propriety. 

But  little  more  remains  for  me  to  say,  and  that  I  must  say  briefly. 
1  am  determined  to  finish  my  story,  and  as  my  husband  for  the  first 
time  since  my  illness  has  left  me  alone  for  an  hour  or  two,  I  am  im 
proving  the  opportunity,  having  first  bribed  Bertha  to  bring  me  my 
writing  materials,  by  promising  her  a  dress  which  she  has  long  coveted 

The  royal  purple  turban  by  the  window  has  become  somewhat  di?1 
placed  by  the  strong  west  wind,  and  now,  wide  awake,  begins  to  grum 
ble  at  "  Miss  Rosy's  impudence  in  'xertin'  herself  to  write  trash  which 
is  of  no  kind  o'  'count,  and  which  no  human  will  ever  read." 

1  hope  her  prediction  is  a  false  one,  for  I  have  lately  conceived  the 
idea  of  devoting  the  entire  proceeds  of  this  book  to  the  benefit  of  Rosa 
Lee,  who,  of  course,  has  no  part  in  the  ten  thousand  dollars  which  her 
father  has  married. 

There  is  a  rustling  In  the  crib— the  baby  is  waking,  and  at  my  re 
quest  Juno  brings  her  to  me,  saying  as  she  lays  her  on  my  lap,  *'  She's 
the  berry  pictur*  of  t'other  Jessie,"  and  as  her  soft  blue  eyes  unclose 
and  my  hand  rests  on  her  curly  hair,  which  begins  to  look  golden  in 
the  sunlight,  I,  too,  think  the  same,  and  with  a  throbbing  heart  I  pray 
the  Father  to  save  her  from  the  early  death  which  came  to  our  los\ 
iarling,  "  Jessie,  the  Angel  of  The  Pines." 

ROSA 


The  Long  Lost  Friend, 

X  CONTAINING  X 

I  COUECTIflL.. 


OF  THE— 


Wonderful 

AND 

Valuable 

.Arts  and  Remedies  for  Man  as  well  as 
Animals  ever  Discovered 

For  Hundreds  of  years,  with  many  proofs  of  their  virtue 
and  efficacy  in  Healing  Diseases,  &c. 

The  greater  part  of  vrhich-vras  never  published  until  they  appeared 
In  print,  for  the  first  time  in  the  United  States,  in  the  year  1820,  by  the 
celebrated  Author  and  Necromancer,  John  George  Honman,  who  claims 
that  whosoever  carries  this  little  book  with  him  is  safe  from  all  his 
enemies,  visible  or  invisible,  and  whosoever  has  this  book  with  him  can 
not  die  without  Holy  Corps  of  Jesus  Christ ;  nor  drown  in  any  water  • 
nor  burn  in  any  fire ;  nor  can  unjust  sentences  be  passed  upon  him.  I 
•will  name  a  few  of  the  contents  of  this  rare  work : 

How  to  Compel  a  Thief  to  EetiLn  Stolen  Things;  How  to 
Extinguish  Fire  Without  Water;  How  to  Stop  blood; 
How  to  Destroy  Witches;  How  to  Find  all  kinds  o; 
Metals;  To  Banish  all  Kinds  of  Pain;  To  Compel  a 
Thief  to  Stand  Still;  How  to  Fasten  or  spellbind  any 
thing;  And  many  rare  and  valuable  secrets  never  be 
fore  disclosed. 

This  book  contains  ,\C  pages  (in  English  or  German  languages):  sent 
to  any  part  of  the  world,  under  double-sealed  wrappers,  postpaid,  for 
fl  .00 ;  three  copiea  for  $£w*  AGENTS  WANTED, 


Being  the  Approved,  Verified,  Sympathetic  and  Natural 

EGYTTIAJST 

SECRETS 


or,  White  and  Black  Arfc  for  Man  and  Beast.     The  Book  of 
Nature  and  Hidden  Secrets  and  Mysteries  of  Life  Un 
veiled,  being  the  Forbidden  Knowledge  of  An 
cient  Philosophers,  by  the  Celebrated  Stu 
dent,  Philosopher,  Chemist,'  Eie. 

Translated  from  the  German.  Three  Separate  volwnes  all  bound 
in  one. 

Albortns,  Sttrnamed  Magnus,  from  the  Latinizing  of  his  surname, 
which  was  Great,  was  a  native  of  Suabia,  and  born  in  1215 .  He  was  ar 
dently  d-esiroua  of  acquiring  knowledge,  and  studied  -with  assiduity; 
but  being  of  slow  comprehension,  his  progress  was  not  adequate  to  his 
expectations,  andj  therefore,  in  despair,  he  resolved  to  relinquish  boots, 
and  bury  himself  in  retirement.  One  night,  however,  he  saw  the  vision 
of  a  beautiful  woman,  who  accosted  him,  and  inquired  the  cause  of  his 
grief.  Ho  replied  tiiac  in  spite  of  all  his  efforts  to  acquire  information, 
he  feared  he  should  always  remain  ignorant.  *^Have  youso  little  faith, 
replied  the  lady,  "as  to  suppose  that  your  prayers  will  not  obtain  what 
you  cannot  of  yourself  accomplish?"  The  young  man  prostrated  him 
self  at  her  feet,  and  she  promised  all  that  he  desired,  but  added  that  as 
he  preferred  philosophy  to  theology,  he  should  lose  his  faculties  before 
his  death.o  She  then  disappeared  and  the  prediction  was  accomplished, 
Albertus  became,  unwiliingly9  Bishop  of  Katisbon.but  he  relinquished 
the  See  within  three  years,  and  resided  chiefly  at  Cologne,  where  he 
produced  many  wonderful  works.  It  was  said  that  he  constructed  an 
automaton  which  tooth  walked  and  spoke,  answered  questions  and  solved 
problems  submitted  to  ifc.  Thomas  Aquinas,  who  was  the  pupil  of  Al 
bertus,  was  so  alarmed  on  seeing  this  Automaton,  which  he  conceived,  to 
be  the  work  of  the  devil,  that- he  broke  it  to  pieces  and  committed  it  to 
the  flames.  When  "William,  Court  of  Holland,  and  King  of  the  Romans, 
was  at  Cologne,  Albertxs  invited  him  to  a  banquet,  and  promised  that 
hia  table  should  be  laid  out  in  the  aniddle  of  hia  garden,  although  it  was 
then  Winter,  and  severe  weather.  William  accepted  the  invitation, 
and  on  arriving  at  the  house  of  Albertus^  was  surprised  to  find  the  tem 
perature  of  the  air  as  mild  as  in  summer,  and  the  banquet  laid  out  in  an 
arbor  formed  of  trees  and  shrubs  covered  with  leaves  and  flowers,  ex 
haling  the  most  delicious  odors,  which  filled  the  whole  of  the  garden^ 
Albertus  was  reputed  a  magician,  but  nevertheless,  after  his  deaths 
which  occurred  in  1292,  in  his  seventy-seventh  year  he  was  canonized, 

THIS   EXTRAORDINARY   WORK 


•ometimes  called  the  great  "Pow-Wow  or  Magic  Cure  Book,"  is  he}d  by 
thousands  to  be  the  only  sure  means  to  a  void  sickness  in  their  families ; 
to  make  them  fortunate  in  their  crops  and  stock  raising,  and  prosperous 
in  all  their  undertakings,  enabling  them  to  acquire  wealth,  ponor  and 
esteem  amongst  their  friends  and  neighbors.  Mailed,  postpaid,  to  anr 
Address  on  receipt  of  $1.00  for  a  single  cepy,  or  three  copies*  to  0£3  »<i 


THE 

FRENCH  FICTION 
LIBRARY 

A  selection  of  Realistic  Stor 
ies  by  the  most  famous  French 
authors.  Bound  in  attractive 
paper  covers. 

Price,  50  cts.  per;  Copy 

301  The  Clemenceau  Case ". Dumas 

302  Camille    " 

303 .  Sapho    Daudet 

304  Which  Woman  Loved  Him  Best.- " 

305  KorzofFs  Courtship " 

306  The  Gay  Count M.  N.  Sherwood 

307  A  Lustful  Sin "   . 

308  Bonnie  Marie " 

309  Gabrielle,  the  Unfaithful  Wife. . 

310  Repented " 

311  His  Friend's  Wife ,. 

312  Marrying  Off  a  Daughter " 

313  Secrets  of  a  Princess Paul  De  Kock 

314  Love  and   Passion 

315  The  Strange  Will 

316  A  Mother's  Sacrifice " 

317  Betrayed    " 

318  Love's   Vigil " 

319  Love  and  Jealousy 

320  Her  Husband's  Friend   " 

321  His  Heart's  Delight  ...... 

322  Crime  of  a  Countess " 

323  His  Father's  Crime 

324  Eugenie's  Confession Henry   Greville 

325  Zitka   « 


THE  FRENCH  FICTION  LIBRARY. 

326  Wanted,  A  Conscience Henry  Greville 

327  Elyria, by  the  author  of  Deserted 

328  The  Millionaire's  Wife  Allen 

329  A  Crooked  Path,  ...  by  the  author  of  the  Freres 

330  Scarlet  Letter N.  Hawthorne 

331  Amours  of  Phillippie Octave  Feuillet 

332  Adventures  of  a  Flirt M.  Rutledge 

333  Exiles  of  Siberia Tissot 

334  The  Fugitives   „ . . .      " 

335  Led  Astray Van  Loon 

336  A  Sinner's  Sentence A.  Larder 

337  Jealous  Husband   

338  Pierre  Goriot Balzac 

339  The  Flower  Girls  of  Marseilles Emile  Zola 

340  Claude's  Confession  

341  Nana's  Brother  

342  Germinal    

343  Mysteries  of  the  Court  of  Napoleon. . 

344  Stranglers  of  Paris Belot 

345  La  Grande  Florine    ...  Belot 

346  The  Devil's  Die Allen 

347  Michael  StrogofT * '.  Jules  Verne 

348  Romantic  Adventures  of  a  Milkmaid.  .T.  Hardy 

349  Strange  Adventures  of  Lucy  Smith.Mrs.  Phillips 

350  Jennette's   Repentance George   Elliott 

351  Countess  Eva J.  H.  Shorthouse 

352  An  Old  Man's  Love Anthony  Trollippe 

353  The  Black  Venus Adolphe  Belot 


I.  &/M.  QTTENHEIMER 

321  W.  Baltimore  S*  Baltimore.  Md. 


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THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


Kellar's  Wizard's  Manual 

One  DoLar  Book  Reduced  to  25cts. 


MANUAL 


Secrets  of  Magic  Black 
Art,     Ventriloquism 
and  Hypnotism 
Fully  Explained      n 
and  Illustrated. 


In  this  advertisement  we 
mention  but  a  few  of  the 
many  wonders  that  every 
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reading  the  Wizard's 
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all  other  such  books  com 
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Every  Secret  is  unfolded 
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How  Hypnotize 

Ventriloquism. 

How  to  Eat  Fire. 

How  to  Bring  a  Dead  Bird  to  Live. 

How  to  Change  Cards  and  iNliney. 

How  to  Change  a  Card  in  a  Box.  * 

The  Card  in  the  Egg. 

The  Obedient  Watch. 

The  Multiplying  Mirror. 

How  to  Make  the  Pass. 

How  to  make  a    piece   of  Money 

Sink  Through  a  Table. 
How  to  Cut  a  Man's  Head  Off. 
How  to  Eat  Knives  and  Forks. 
How  to  Cook  an  Omelet  in  a  Hat. 
How  to  Tear  a  Handkerchief    in 

Pieces  and  Make  it  Whole  again. 
The  Phantom  at  Command. 


REVEZALETO 

How  to  Put  a  Ring  'L  nrough  One's 
Check. 

How  to  Cut  Your  At  n  Off  Without 
Hurt  or  Danger. 

How  to  Draw  a  Card  Through  Your 
Nose. 

How  to  Turn  Water  Into  Wine. 

How  to  Break  a  Gentlemen's  \Vatch. 

The  Magic  Twelve. 

The  Mystical  Dial. 

How  to  Make  a  Lady  Fall  Back 
ward. 

How  to  Make  a  Lady  Sleep. 

How  to  d  )  all  kinds  of  Card  Tricks. 

How  to  Do  All  The  Latest  Coin 
Tricks. 

How  to  Do  Hundred  of  other  Mar 
vellous  Feats  of  Legerdemain. 


SENT    POSTPAID    FOR    25    CENTS 

I.  &  M.  OTTENHEIMER 

321  W.  Baltimore  St.          Baltimore,  Md. 


